Ever At Your Service
by DarkWriter711
Summary: Through the years Basch and Ashe have come together and been pulled apart many times. From her childhood into the mission to restore Dalmasca, he has remained at her side, loving her all the while. Will their love remain a fantasy?
1. Beginnings

Author's Note: I've taken such a long break from writing that I feel I've lost my mojo, but I love this game so much that I just have to write something for it. I don't know where it will go, or if it will go anywhere at all, but I thought that I would share. If I do continue, which I intend to (don't we all?) I want to see Basch and Ashe together - they are by far my favorite pair from the game. I apologize for the lack of html formatting. I never could learn how to do it properly.

This snippet of their lives was intended as a Basch flashback. Please read and review - it would mean so much to me.

Cheers!

* * *

**Meeting**

An unknown soldier is escorted through the halls of a magnificent palace. The native guards are skeptical, but the king is sure after meeting this man - he is the one for the job, yes, they will start him here. His lightness of spirit makes him a perfect companion for Dalmasca's treasure, the king thinks, and his loyalty to his newly adopted homeland makes him the perfect protector.

"I warn you," the escorting knight says, "if any harm should befall her, we shall make your death look like an accident."

The young soldier, barely twenty-two years of age, nods in understanding. He has taken this post with reluctance - truly he wants to be a knight, as he has always been skilled in combat and strategy - but this is what the king offered him, and while it is not a position of authority or immediate importance, it seems to be a good place to start.

The escort, a young Sir Azelas, gestures him into an open room, and the soldier is immediately struck with how tidy the room is. A five year old of any station would have toys strewn across every surface and artwork hung on the walls. Instead he finds books and neat drawings carefully stacked on the table, the colors and pencils neatly lined up in their respective cases.

The girl sits by the window on the ledge, writing on a piece of paper supported by a book. Her sandy hair is long and her skin tanned from the intense summer sun. She wears a flowing white dress, the laces of which flow down to her knees. They sway ever so slightly as she breathes and moves with juvenile energy.

"Ashelia?"Azelas says. The girl looks up and the solider is struck by her unearthly and mature beauty. Her eyes are intelligent but impish, as though she is plotting some benevolent mischief. Perhaps it is a plan that she writes.

She smiles once she realizes who it is and sets her book down with the utmost care before approaching Azelas. He is young and handsome - of course the princess favors him. He is vibrant and strong - only twenty himself, though he has been a part of the armed forces and her life since he was seventeen and she three. Azelas, who wears no armor for this task, crouches down and picks up the young princess, giving her a brief hug.

"Having fun today?"

"No," she says. She is a self-possessed child. "I'm bored. I'm not allowed out into the city."

"Well, perhaps that will change."

Her eyes brighten. "Are you to be my guard again?"

Azelas shakes his head, and the solider thinks he detects a bit of sadness and regret in the man's eyes. "I can't. I told you," he explains, "I have to start training with the other men now. I'm to be a knight."

The girl folds her arms and Azelas does not flinch with the movement. His hold is strong. "But I have brought you your new guard. Your father picked him out specifically for you."

"My father finds dull people. It was mother who found you."

Instantly, the girl's face changes to one of guarded sadness. The solider knows that her mother died a year ago, and tough the girl is young, it is clear that she understands her mother is not returning.

"And I will always be here for you," Azelas assures her. It is clear the two were close. "You will still see me. I simply can't be here all the time now. And I want you to keep drawing me pictures. I do enjoy them."

"Then I'll draw you another one today."

Azelas grins and gives her a squeeze and she hugs him tight about the neck and shoulders. The solider begins to feel doubt - how could he ever replace this guard who cares for her so? What if he and the child don't get along? What will he do if she holds him in contempt for being someone other than Azelas?

"This gentleman is going to be your new companion."

_Companion_, the soldier thinks. _Am I no more than a glorified babysitter?_

_Azelas is moving upward from this position. I will too, he assures himself._

The girl looks him over, and then wiggles a bit. Azelas obliges and sets her down on the floor. She stands before the solider, her arms crossed and her head high, regarding him as though considering whether or not to give her approval - as if she has the option.

"My name is Ashe. What is yours?"

He'll take that as approval. Carefully, he crouches down, feeling his light leather armor shift against his body. He places himself at her eye level and settles his hand at the hilt of his short sword, feeling that she, like any five year old girl, would like to feel like a princess with a knight at her service.

"I am Basch, my lady, and I am ever at your service."


	2. It was worth it

"Ashe has not taken well to my presence," Basch reminds himself as he approaches the young princess' door early one morning. It has been three months since he took Vossler's post, and still the princess remains hostile. He has been charged with taking her through the town today, as she has begun to get restless in the palace. It is not a task he looks forward to, but he hopes that somehow it will give him a chance to let the princess find some trust in him. "I must be careful."

The maids bring the girl out of her room just as Basch reaches it, giving him little chance to gather himself for the day's task. He is dressed in his light armor today, which is still too heavy to be humane in the Dalmascan heat, with his sword at his side and a dagger in his boot. They weigh on him like his troubles and worries.

Despite the lack of love between them, Basch smiles as he sees the little girl straighten her sundress and brush her hair from her eyes. She is undeniably adorable as she clutches the stuffed bear her father gave her before he departed on his latest diplomatic mission. It has not left her side since he left, so Basch has no expectations of it staying behind today.

"Good morning, my lady," he says with a slight bow, "I am told you wish to venture into Rabanastre today."

She gives him a narrow look and nods, slipping into her sandals. A young maid gives Basch a knowing smile and flirty wave and he sincerely hopes it wasn't her at the bar last night – maybe just a woman who looks like her? As she walks away he takes short note of her walk and kicks himself for getting so drunk.

"I have outgrown much of my clothing," Ashe – she has recently adopted the nickname and demands to be called by it – states matter-of-factly. "Father says you are to accompany me to get new things."

Basch nods in agreement. "Yes ma'am. I have been told to bar no expense for your happiness."

Her distaste gave way to confusion. "What does that mean?"

Ashe did not ask that question often, so Basch seized the moment to try and show her that he wasn't just a hired sword. He knelt before her and offered her a friendly smile. "It means I am supposed to get you what you want and have the bill sent to the palace."

"So..." he can see the wheels turning in the girl's mind, "maybe we can go to the toy store too?"

Basch chuckles a bit and stands, offering her his hand. "If that is what you wish, my lady."

Ashe regards him for a moment before slipping her delicate hand into his gloved claw, and together they set out into the day.

They arrive back at the palace early in the evening. Basch walks carefully, his knees soft and bent as he crosses the atrium. Ashe sleeps peacefully in his arms, her breaths coming long and slow as he carries her towards the staircase and her room. He wants desperately not to wake her, as she has had a long but good day out in the city. He smiles and adjusts her in his arms as he thinks of how she hugged him when he took her to the fountain to feed the birds breadcrumbs – something Vossler would _never_ do.

He nods to the stationary guard in the princess' hallway and the man rushes to open the door. Basch carefully steps through the doorway with the child, mindful of her head and stubbing his toe in the process. He cringes and bites back a curse, stopping for a moment to let the pain fade into a dull throbbing. Carefully, he moves over to her bed and lays her on it, drawing up her spare blanket to cover her. He unlaces her shoes and pulls them from her tiny feet and tucks the blanket around them, just how she likes it.

"Percival?" she whispers, waking. Basch curses himself – he was so careful. He leans over her and smiles kindly.

"Go back to sleep, sweetheart." He hopes she won't berate him for the endearment. Instead, she frowns up at him, becoming more and more alert.

"Where's Percival? My bear?"

Basch cringes deeply. "Oh, no."

She's lost him, or rather he has. It was his job to take care of her and he's violated one of the cardinal rules of child watching – do not lose the favorite toy.

"Have we misplaced him?" he recovers. Her lower lip starts to quiver and it breaks Basch's heart in an instant, not because she wants her bear back – because he knows she wants it back because she misses her father. In that moment, his sole wish is to take every bit of pain from her.

_ In his Nalbina cell Basch smiles, remembering Ashe as she was that evening, so innocent, only wanting the part of her father she could hold onto. He closes her eyes, recalling how her trust in him struck his heart as she asked him to find Percival and how she'd had no doubt he could…_

Ashe's little hand rises up to the side of Basch's face and he soaks in the sweetness of the gesture. "Can you find him, Basch? P-please?"

Basch takes her hand from his cheek and kisses her tiny knuckle. "I will do my best. You have my word."

"I-I can't sleep with… without him…"

"I will go get him. Do you remember when you last had him?"

She shakes her head, her hair falling into her eyes. Basch makes a mental note that it needs to be cut soon and nods a bit to her, resigning to a long evening of searching the city.

"I shall find your bear, my lady," he says to her in a valiant voice to mask his exhaustion, "and I shall return him safely to you. In the meantime, please try to get some sleep."

He pulls the covers up over her and offers her a reassuring smile, only to be met with a fearful and apprehensive gaze. She may trust him, now, to play with her and show her a good day, but the safe return of Percival? Her doubt spoke volumes for their relationship.

He has no choice but to leave her in the care of the palace guards and scour the city for Percival. As he reaches the door he looks back to see Ashe sitting up in her bed, watching him, clutching the covers close for comfort. He smiles at her again and leaves her, stepping out into the hall and closing the door.

Basch must find the damn bear.

_ He smiles a bit in his cage, remembering how he found the bear sitting patiently by the fountain at the center of the city. Finding the bear, he knew, would show Ashe just how devoted he was, and maybe, just maybe she would trust him._

_ Looking back on it now, though, he knew it was all for nothing. Had he known then, would he have simply disappeared that night? Would he have ever signed up to be the princess' guard? Would he have ever left Landis to start with?_

_ He would have gone to Rabanastre. He knows this. How could he ever surrender his right to have known her? How could he decide not to have met her? Was it worth it to have known and guarded her, to have loved her as he did…?_

Basch walks back through the palace, his shoulders slumped and his eyes half closed from exhaustion, the bear dangling from his hand. He waves away the palace guard, muttering only "I have her stuffed bear," and walks up the stairs – has the staircase always been so long? – to her room. He taps once, twice, and then enters, glancing at the bed to see Ashe sitting there, looking at the door, waiting for him.

He has never seen such a wide, brilliant smile on anyone's face, much less such a beautiful, innocent and kind girl. The effect is nearly blinding even in the middle of the night.

"Sir Percivial, I believe, is glad to be home."

Basch walks to her bed as she crawls to the edge of it and they meet in the middle. She takes the bear from him and hugs him tightly. He can feel the warmth of her little body through his light armor and he hugs her back. It makes the aggravation, annoyance and grief worth it.

_It was worth it, Basch thinks from his cage, and hopes that somehow the sentiment stretches from his heart all the way to hers, wherever she may be._

_ It was worth it._


	3. I promise

_Basch leans back into the cold metal bars of his cage. It has been a year now and his hair is matted against his head. His body smells of more than just sweat and his muscles have completely deteriorated. He feels weak and he is being fed only enough to keep his heart beating._

_ As usual, he thinks of Ashe and worries. Is she okay? Is she on her own? Is she safe?_

_ "I taught her to fight", he recalls, "and she was a good student. She is fine._

_ But wherever she is and whatever she is up against, she hates me."_

_ He cringes and pulls his knees to his chest. He rests his head on his legs, feeling the pain of the thought course through him._

_ "At least I know I taught her to take care of herself. I did the best I could…"_

_

* * *

_

Ashe's twelfth birthday comes and goes and, after much begging, Basch agrees to teach her to fight. He takes her into the courtyard into the most open area he can find and hands her a long pole with which to practice. It is blunt so that she cannot hurt him while they practice, but he is more concerned about her hurting herself.

"You're going to have to be careful," he tells her, handing her the pole. She's put on a loose shirt and a pair of riding pants. He's seen her dressed like this before, but today he notices how undeniable it is that she's growing into a woman. It saddens him, for he knows his days of freedom with her are numbered.

"Vossler would never teach me how to do this," she says, twirling the pole around. Basch jumps back to avoid the tip of it and she giggles. "Oops."

"Vossler could keep a better hand on you when you were younger. I won't always be her to protect you."

Ashe stamps her pole on the ground and glares at him. She's been touchy the past few days and it has not been lost on him. "Are you planning on transferring soon?"

"No, Ashe. I simply meant –"

"Did Vossler put you up to this?" Her distress becomes clear on her face, "You two are friends… do you think you'd have more fun with him?"

"No, Ashe."

"I-I understand, but –"

"Ashe!" Basch raises his voice. He has not done this on many occasions, but this time it seemed necessary. He has been frustrated with her moodiness, though he understands it is all a part of getting older. It seems as though he cannot speak without her taking his words the wrong way.

Ashe closes her mouth tight in silence, dropping her pole to her side. He can see the tears in her eyes and he already knows he will regret yelling at her, not that anyone would blame him. He sighs, drops his pole, and walks to where he stands. He bends to one knee in front of her, for he is closer to her eye level this way, and takes her pole from her hand.

"I have made no arrangements to leave your service," he tells her slowly and firmly. He takes both her hands into his own. "I simply meant that I may not always be here. Things do happen. If there is a war I have to leave you. You know this."

"I know," she affirms quietly. Her voice is weak and sad and it absorbs his frustration. He only wants to make everything right for her.

"And if there is a war something could happen to me."

She shakes her head rapidly. He has tried to talk to her of this before but she always finds a way to change the subject. "No. You'd be fine. Besides Vossler –"

"Is one man. I know you have faith in him and I do too, but he is one man. He cannot win a war alone. Neither can I. There will always be casualties, Ashe."

"But you can't –"

"It could be a disease that takes me from you. It could be that simple. I will stay by your side and defend you for as long as I can, but I will not always be here. I need to know you will be able to fend for yourself."

She simply stares at their hands for a long moment, then nods. "Okay," she whispers, "I understand."

He smiles up at her and reaches to her face to tilt her chin up. He looks into her sandy eyes and brushes her hair from her face. "If you do well today I will take you out for ice cream later."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"No, do you promise to always stay with me if you can? To keep me safe unless you absolutely can't?" Her eyes are wide and pleading. "I only feel safe with you."

It is a difficult question to reply to, but her faith in him gives him courage. He nods a bit and gives her delicate hands a light squeeze.

"I promise."

* * *

_Ashe bids Vossler a good night, avoiding an awkward goodbye by simply walking down the hallway to her room. They're staying in a safe house now with other members of the resistance. It is anything but safe, but it is the best they had._

_ "Basch likely could have done better," Vossler admitted a few days ago, breaking their unspoken code of keeping the traitor's name unspoken._

_ Ashe slips into her tiny room and rests her back against her shut door. The day had been harrowing. An imperial had recognized her when Vossler had not been looking. He had rushed at her and attempted to injure her into submission, but she'd been too quick. She'd pulled Vossler's sword from his hip and impaled the man before he'd had change to hit her twice._

_ She cringes now and raises her hand to the large bruise now covering her ribs. She'd been quick, but not quick enough. _

_ "If Basch hadn't taught me I would probably be dead," she mutters to herself. She does so often to fill the silence._

_ She cringes as an image of him fills her mind and shuts her eyes tight, willing it away. The memory is too painful to bear, for he was not just a traitorous knight, he was a traitorous best friend.__  
_


	4. Always my Princess

_Ashe sits on a bench in the safe room on the top level of Rabanastre's buildings. It is a small room with her bed and some of her clothes, but it would do for now. She runs her fingers through her short hair and wonders how things could be different or if they even could be._

_ A fruitless activity, but she does it a lot. The sun is setting in the distance over the desert. She thinks of the city below her and how it should be more vital and alive. She thinks of how she should have been able to walk among her people and laugh and smile and she thinks of how her father should still be alive. She says she believes the reports, that Basch was the one who did it – the architect of her kingdom and her own demise – but her heart doesn't believe what her mind tells it._

_ Basch, her Basch, loved Dalmasca more than anything._

_ She closes her eyes tight, wondering if he was driven mad by the memories. Is that what made him do it?_

_ Or was he somewhere out there, innocent, being driven mad by them as she wondered, futilely, of what could have been._

_

* * *

_

"Vossler meant well," Ashe thinks, "and I feel like a traitor for thinking this, but Basch is so much more fun."

Ashe watches as Basch looks over his shoulder and shoots her an impish grin. They are in a foreign city today where no one knows her face. She can move about freely, without interruption, and she and Basch can actually have some fun.

She is fourteen and she wants nothing more than a little freedom.

Basch brings over a tray of food – improper, greasy things that would never be served in the palace – and gives her a sarcastic, animalistic growl as he falls into his seat. "I'm starving," he tells her.

They have been swimming in the sea all day. Her father, who as in meetings from morning until dusk, had left Basch with orders to simply take Ashe out to have fun. She was sure he'd meant shopping or attending some play, but as she reached for the fried potatoes and felt the oil slide onto her skin, she didn't regret a bit of the sun on her cheeks or sand in her hair.

"Oh my gosh," she mutters, tasting the traditional Landisian food for the first time. "This is fantastic."

"I know," he says. It's not like Basch to abandon his manners, but he's in his homeland and he's happy in the tavern he frequented as a younger man. Ashe has never seen him like this, and it astonishes her to realize that his happiness warms her heart. If only he was a bit younger… sixteen or seventeen, perhaps, they could have made beautiful best friends or even more, but he's too old and he's her guard…

But she watches him eat and grin as he watches his countrymen mill around them. He's happy and they're together, and she's found that she can ask for little more than the company of her best friend.

"The surf was amazing today," he says. "I've never seen the waves coming in so clear and so high."

She grins, not even caring that there's food probably stuck in her teeth or that her face twinges just a bit from the sunburn. "It was beautiful. Thank you for taking me."

"My pleasure," he says and he raises his glass to her. They're not drinking alcohol, of course, but the effect is the same. Loyalty. Friendship. This impossible bond that they have that defies explanation. She raises hers to him and they toast each other with their apple juice.

"Why do you put up with me, Basch?" The question escapes her before she can stop it. He looks at her and furrows his brow in confusion. Instantly he is her guard again and she wishes she hadn't broken the moment and his contentment. "I only mean that I'm annoying. I understand that. I'm spoiled and stubborn and hard to take. You could advance in the army now, you know that. My father would promote you in a heartbeat if you asked and you could be a captain. Isn't that what you want."

Basch takes a long drink from his glass to cover his silence. "I could," he agrees, "and in the beginning that was what I wanted. I won't lie. It wasn't until I had to rescue Percival and you decided you liked me that I actually enjoyed being your guard."

He pauses and Ashe doesn't know what to say, so she just eats more of the potatoes and waits for him to continue, and when he does she is shocked. He'd never talked much of his life before Rabanastre, and when he had the tales were vague, so she listens attentively when he speaks of his childhood.

"I wasn't able to have much fun as a child. My family was poor and I worked. Odd jobs as a child and then more serious ones as I grew up. When Landis was taken by Archadia I left for the Rabanastre instead of going with my family. I know that I was too old to sit on the floor and color with you and that I shouldn't have loved watching you learn everything in school or play with your friends, but I didn't get to do those things. I care about you, Ashe, as though you were my own sister or child, and watching you be happy makes me happy."

She is speechless. Such a confession would be considered improper by many, but between them it is sacred. She doubts they will speak of it again, and she holds her words back to preserve the moment. Finally, Basch hands her some kind of unrecognizable desert, and he watches as her eyes light up with the new experience.

* * *

_Ashe thinks of that moment often while in seclusion or distress, along with many others that she holds in fond memory. She and Basch had indeed defied explanation. She had cared for him more than she'd cared for anyone else, and by adult standards their relationship had been indecent. A guard should never have been so close to his charge or so invested in her wellbeing. Safety should have been his only concern, but it wasn't. He'd loved her like a sister or a child, and she'd loved him as something that she couldn't explain, even to herself._

_ It was that moment in conquered Landis and one other fragment that left her in doubt of his guilt…_

_

* * *

_

Sixteen comes for a princess with talk of marriage and questions of state. Ashe stands on her balcony in her ball gown after her formal celebration. She is waiting for Basch. He'd told her he would come up immediately, that he had her birthday present and that he couldn't let anyone else see that he'd given it to her, for the gift broke protocol. She felt guilty and hoped it wasn't much – she had the means to buy herself anything she wanted and she knew Basch's pay was far less than he deserved. Still, she was curious, and he'd seemed so earnest.

After talking with a princess from a neighboring kingdom she felt quite fortunate when she heard her apartment door open. The princess had told Ashe of the strict conditions she lived under. Only the female maids were to enter her room at any given time and there had to be at least three to prevent any type of indiscretion. The guards of Rabanastre were so well trusted that such rules had never been in place. It served Ashe and Basch well, as they often played board games and read books aloud to each other in ways that would make each other laugh. Such frivolity would not be understood by many.

The door closes and she hears Basch's heavy boots clanging methodically against the marble floor of her room. He slips through the curtain to her balcony and smiled at her. She'd only been able to speak a few words to him all day, despite his constant presence, and she'd only caught a glimpse of him during the party. She was surprised by how handsome he was in his formal armor, but she much preferred him in the state he'd come to visit her in – his breastplate was missing, his armguards off and his gloves tucked into the belt of his lower armor, which he had yet to remove. This state of undress and disarray spoke to the humor she knew lived in Basch's heart and soul.

Though nothing had changed outwardly, she knew their relationship had changed for her. Though she was bound by her station, she couldn't help wishing that Basch was younger and that he was a prince. She couldn't stop dreaming of how things could have been different.

* * *

_A fruitless activity_.

* * *

He bows to her and she allows it, as the entire day has been more formal than her liking.

"Happy Birthday, my lady," he says. She curtsies to him in kind.

"Thank you, good knight."

He straightens and there is clear on his face. It is etched in the lines around his eyes that betray his age. "I must speak with you. It is important."

Ashe's heart sinks. She hasn't heard such a formal tone from Basch when they were alone in years. She even thinks her memories of it are a figment of her imagination. Shouldn't they be laughing at how silly the sons of Rozzaria had behaved at the party, seducing Ashe's maids? Or of the whispers of Ashe's marriage to Rasler coming in the near future?

"Yes?"

His shoulders drop a bit – he can't hold the façade, and he looks away from her out over the city he loves so dearly. "As of tomorrow I will no longer be your designated guard."

Her eyes widen. This was not what she had expected. "What? Why?" Her tone is frantic, her eyes searching for some sign of cruel humor on his face. It is not there. Her Basch does not know how to be cruel.

"I spoke with your father earlier. There is a major failing in leadership among our armed forces and Captain Azelas has requested me specifically to come in and help solve the problem."

Tears, now, have sprung to her eyes. "You're leaving me."

The lines on his face lengthen and she sees the pain in him. "There is also talk that you and I are too close. It was acceptable before, but now you are a woman and it is improper."

"So we'll stop laughing! We'll stop having fun," she cries. "So we'll act proper, I don't care."

"It's not that simple –"

"The Hell it isn't!" She stalks away from him and rakes a hand through her hair. Is this what her nursemaid had told her about – the uncontrollable mood swings that came with the changes to adulthood?

No, this was selfish anger. The army may need him and Dalmasca may need him, but she needs him more.

She will always need him more.

"Ashe, see reason. Try to see what your father sees."

"My father sees a bargaining chip for his negotiations." She turns around to him, her hair falling wildly into her eyes. "I am nothing more than a pawn to marry off for political strength."

"That isn't true. He feels I am a threat to you."

"A threat to me?" The thought stuns me into a quieter tone. "I am safer with you than anywhere else in the world. I am safer with you than locked in a stone room with no way out or in. You are my only friend, Basch."

"And I will continue to be your friend. You must know that." He finally turns to her. "That is why I've brought you this."

He withdraws a small box from a pocket in his shirt and holds it out to her. She takes it slowly and opens it. Inside is a simple silver band.

"I don't understand."

"You keep it on your right hand. When you miss me, just take it off and look inside."

She holds the ring up to the light from the room behind her. Inside the band is inscribed a simple sentiment. "Ashe. Always my princess."

The tears spill over. She understands what the others must see – an older guard and a young, foolish girl with too much to laugh and talk over. She should not even consider accepting such a gift but she does anyway and slides it onto her hand. Any man who would have her would have to take Basch in the contract. He was her best friend, despite any differences, and no politics, marriages or changes of assignment would change that.

"You will always be _my_ princess, Ashe, even when you are a queen."

She says nothing. She simply moves over to him and wraps her arms around his chest. It takes a moment, but she soon feels his arms slide around her body and they hold each other, princess and knight, for a long time.

* * *

_Ashe thinks often of that moment and of how things could have been different. She thinks of how she would love to have her father alive, her kingdom sovereign and Basch beside her trying to invent some adventure._

_ And then she is snapped back into reality. Her kingdom was in ruin. Her father was dead. Her friends thought she had taken her own life. She had nothing but the clothes on her back and the people who dared travel with her._

_ Her loyal guard was a traitor, for if he was not and this was a mistake, would he not have come to her first and found a way to make her see the truth? Wouldn't he know she'd be pressed to hate him? Wouldn't he want to prevent that?_

_ The door behind her opens and Vossler enters with her dinner and a single Galbana lily. He smiles at her and she knows he is comfortable in this resistance. This is his element and he's trying so hard to keep her happy, sharp and secluded. Ashe smiles at him and sits at the table in the corner and he joins her so they can share the meal. He tries to make her laugh and she does, but she never feels it. She always wishes it were Basch sitting across from her, traitor or not._


	5. Never

_Ashe waits patiently for Vossler to return with the medicine for her sore throat. Though it is well known that he is one of the leaders of the resistance, Vossler is still able to move about the city, for the imperials can find no crime to charge him with. She sits on her windowsill – one leg dangling outside the portal – and feels the warm desert breeze come in across her face. She closes her eyes and tries to keep her heart in check, for it is trying to beat wildly with grief and anxiety._

_ She'd walked into Vossler's office to surprise him with some cookies. Simple pleasures like sweets were rare when they were, by and large, in hiding, and they were his favorite kind. She'd intended to sneak up behind him and wait until he smelled the peanut butter to hand over the gift._

_ Curiosity, as it does on many occasions, got the better of her. She stood on her toes and peered over Vossler's large shoulder to the paper on his desk and his ever moving pen. What she saw there shocked her._

_ Vossler was filling out a death certificate for Basch fon Ronsenberg._

_ "Did you find his body?" _

_ Vossler jumped, knocking his drink from the desk. He was on his feet and had his dagger half-drawn from his hip before he realized it was Ashe._

_ "No," he told her, "but it has been long enough. He must be formally declared dead by Dalmascan standards. We were told he'd been executed, but…"_

_ "But you didn't believe it," Ashe finished. Such topics were somewhat of a taboo between them. "And now you do."_

_ "If he wasn't dead he would have come to us."_

_ Ashe leans against a nearby table for support. Perhaps more difficult than going into hiding was doing so without Basch, who'd always had a plan for everything. He'd taught to survive on her own incase she ever had to escape anything, but she'd always assumed he would be with her._

_ And now even Vossler, who'd held out hope for another conversation with Basch to learn the truth, believed he was dead._

_ Vossler got to his feet and moved towards her, cautious as ever. Things had never been as easy between them as they'd been with Basch, but they were friends and Vossler was all Ashe had left. She looked up at him, unapologetic for her tears._

_ "He was my best friend," Vossler said, "and I don't think he's the traitor we've been told he is. It seems now that we will never get to ask him ourselves."_

_ "I cannot believe that he isn't coming back."_

_ Ashe looks out at the sunset, trying to find appreciation for it. She'd sent Vossler out for the medicinal tea so she could have some time alone. She'd cried into his chest long enough, after all._

_ It seemed seems to go over everything in her mind and commit what she can to permanent, unchangeable memory. She thinks through everything, but it is a memory of herself with her two favorite knights that finally breaks her._

Ashe stares at the pile of clothing in the middle of her floor with disdain. At fourteen years old having little that fits properly has become quite an embarrassing problem. The growth spurt came so fast and so furious that she'd barely had time to buy more clothing before she had outgrown them. She kicks at the pile of her favorite clothes, wishing she could magically make them fit.

Basch has agreed to take her shopping, which she now understands is a major undertaking and aggravation for him. Basch can replace all of his clothing in ten minutes in the men's clothing store in town, while she must browse each boutique and shop to find just what she wants.

She often wonders why he puts up with her.

There is a knock on her door that she recognizes as Basch's – three sharp taps and then a strum of his fingers – it is their joke. She calls to him to tell him it is open and he enters, wearing his casual uniform and a large dagger at his hip. He folds his arms and casts an amused look at her.

"Someone has been cleaning."

It is not Basch's voice. Vossler emerges from behind him and Ashe squeals with delight. She rushes to hug him and he picks her up in his overwhelming embrace. Basch laughs at them.

"You're still not too big for me to pick up," he says, setting her back on her feet.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, I ran into Basch this morning and he told me of your plans for the day. Since I have a day off I thought I would join you. Would that be alright?"

"Of course!" The men laugh and Basch hands her hat to her. She narrows her eyes at him in contempt, but he simply raises his eyebrows at her and she puts it on.

"We can't have you getting a sunburn again."

"Again?" Vossler asks. They leave her room and start moving toward the exit of the castle. As they descend the stairs, Ashe slips her hands into theirs and moves between them.

"I took her swimming a week or so ago during a trip to Landis and she got quite burned."

"I wouldn't think King Raminas would approve of such an activity," Vossler says, uncertain.

"He didn't," Basch confirms, and he and Ashe finish the thought in unison: "but it is easier to ask for forgiveness than permission."

Vossler says nothing and only narrows his eyes at the pair of them. It is clear that he disapproves of such frivolity, and Ashe has the nagging suspicion that he will be having a talk with Basch later about proper knightly conduct. She bites her lip and sneaks a look up at Basch and he shrugs a bit.

"I'm glad you've come," Basch says. "We'll be needing you to carry the bags too."

"You mean you buy the things on the spot?" Vossler's tone is incredulous. Ashe rolls her eyes, remembering how each potential purchase was written down for her father's approval before it was actually bought.

"Yes, why not?"

"Doesn't King Raminas need to approve things?"

"I take full responsibility for what Ashe buys," Basch says firmly, "She gets what she wants and if the king doesn't like it he can tell her she can't have it. Better him than me, after all."

"Hey!" Ashe yells. The men laugh.

As they walk through the city towards the shopping district, they attract many stares. She wonders if she should feel immature holding her escorts' hands – she is fourteen after all, and a princess – but she doesn't care so much. She looks between Basch and Vossler s they talk and she notices differences between them. Basch's skin is lighter, Vossler's beard is thicker. Vossler's lips are thinner than Basch's and his neck is thicker. Their hair has different textures. It isn't until they reach boutique number one that she stops looking at them. The men escort her in and the fun begins.

By the time Ashe is in the dress shop looking for proper attire for her fifteenth birthday celebration, the men are weary. Vossler sits with his back against the dressing room wall and Basch leans against a rack of clothes, his face in his hand and his eyes closed.

"Are you almost done?" Vossler calls.

"Don't rush her," Basch says. "You can't rush these things."

"Exactly!" Ashe agrees from behind the curtain. After a moment she emerges, dressed in a long sapphire silk gown. Her shoulders are bare and she's drawn her hair up from her neck, leaving it exposed. Basch straightens and Vossler climbs to his feet to look at her.

"Wow," he says quietly. She looks too old, too mature to be their Ashe, the little girl they've protected from the evils of the world. She turns around to show them the low back and laces, then faces them again.

"What do you think?" she asks. Basch cannot tear his eyes from her. There is no greater beauty to him than a stunning woman who neither knows nor cares how beautiful she is, and in that moment Ashe is just that. A beautiful woman, and he cannot think of her as such.

"It looks fantastic." Vossler says. Ashe looks to Basch, for it is clear his opinion matters more to her, but he cannot speak, he only nods to her in approval.

She smiles at him and retreats to the dressing room, wishing he would have spoken, told her she was beautiful. Maybe then she wouldn't feel so silly for wishing things were different, that she were older and a peasant or he were younger and a prince. She sighs and pulls the dress of. It will have to do.

_Ashe swallows down the lump in her throat. She feels guilty, so guilty, for wishing that the world was different, for if she'd had to choose which of her knights had died, she would have chosen Vossler and kept Basch._

_ She chokes back the emotion as Vossler enters her room, her tea already made and steaming in his hand. His loyalty and love makes her want to cry, for he is not Basch and can never replace him in her heart._

_ Never._


	6. Milkmaid

_"Has no one told you, brother?" Gabranth teases as he paces in front of Basch's cage. There is a twisted smile on his face – one that Basch hopes he could never imitate, even in the best of circumstances. _

_ "Told me what, Noah?" Basch goads back. Gabranth glares at him, but then grins again. Basch knows whatever his brother wants to say will sting him in some way._

_ "Your princess killed herself nearly a year ago."_

_ Gabranth keeps talking, something about broken kingdoms and having everything taken from her, but Basch does not hear him. The air has been vacuumed from his lungs and the room and he cannot breathe. He staggers back in his cage and it sways, rocking him in a way that is far from comforting. He hopes it will fall and drop him to his death._

_ "Dead?"_

_ "Dead." Gabranth says. "I suppose, in a way, it is your fault. You did ruin her kingdom, kill her father and lead her husband to his death."_

_ Basch should shout. He knows he should yell in anger, cry out in grief, but he cannot make sound without air and there is none. He cannot breathe and struggles. His breaths come short and choppy as Gabranth strides away, his metal armor clanging and echoing as he moves._

_ He thinks of the things he would say and the wrongs he would right. He thinks of all the things he should have told her and growls at himself for the last year he spent in Rabanastre. He'd let their relationship decay and fall into ruin._

_ What he wouldn't give to tell her he loved her._

_ "Ashe," he whispers, "Ashe, Ashe…"_

Basch had been busy with designing the security structure for the wedding. For days he and Vossler had toiled over it, drinking ale and coffee alternately, trying to find ways to let the public be close enough to the couple to feel as though they were a part of the day and keep them far enough away that the newlyweds would be safe.

It had been weeks since Basch had seen Ashe. Their last conversation had been brief and tense. She was anxious about her marriage. She genuinely cared for Rasler, she'd admitted, but it wasn't all she had hoped for. She would be faithful, of course, but there was something missing.

"I just wish things were different," she had said.

"You are lucky," Basch had told her, "Many royals are forced to marry people they cannot stand for political reasons. You like Rasler and you like Nabradia. You like his family. You will be happy."

"I don't mean that I wish my marriage circumstances were different," she had all but snapped at him. "I know I am lucky. But I just wish everything were different. That I were older. That I wasn't a princess. That I didn't have all of this responsibility and weight on my shoulders."

"But you bear it so well," Basch told her, "You are good at this. Had you been the child of a peasant I would still believe that this is what you were born to do."

Her expression softened, but it was not enough. As Basch walks to her room on the eve of her wedding, he knows he should have handled that conversation differently. That he should have understood what she was trying to tell him – what she had been trying to articulate for the past six months of tensity between them.

She wished she was a part of his world.

He strides up the steps with purpose and fear. He is too old for this – thirty-four is no age for a knight to be confusing princesses and making marriages uncomfortable.

Especially not when he loves the bride so.

He knocks on Ashe's door with a force that cannot be denied. She opens it, and the surprise on her face is clear. Basch steps in without waiting for her to invite him.

"Come in," she says belatedly, sarcastic. "I'm not busy at all."

"I wanted to see you before tomorrow," he says, stopping at the center of her room and folding his arms. He is dressed in normal clothes today – his first day of rest in months. "I am not so sure Rasler would take so kindly to a knight spending any quantity of time with his wife."

"Does it matter? You've made yourself quite scarce lately."

His eyes settle on her wedding dress and veil hanging over her closet door. "It matters. I have been busy."

"Keeping yourself away?"

"You know better than that." He rarely takes a harsh tone with Ashe out of respect for her station and for her as a person. "You know I would have rather stayed as your guard."

"Oh, so we're back to that?" she hisses. She's distracting in her sundress – Basch had a weakness for her when she looked relaxed and happy.

"No," he counters, "Because we've been over this. I came here to wish you well."

"Wish me well!" she cries. This is not proper princess behavior, Basch thinks, but Ashe had dropped the façade of a proper princess in his company so long ago that he barely recalled it. "You've made it quite clear –"

"There is a war coming, Ashe." He silences her with the reality. "You are getting married. This is no time to argue."

"I don't want to get married if it means things have to change."

He knows she speaks of their friendship. "They already have."

She turns from him and folds her arms. "Why?"

"Because you grew up." He surrenders his plans of a simple blessing of her marriage and a short conversation. "Because I had to move on and because they were right. I could no longer guard you. You cloud my judgment."

She says nothing and continues staring out the window. Her chest rises and falls faster and harder than normal and Basch is sure he has ruined her night. He regrets coming at all. "I care too much for you, Ashe, far more than is healthy or acceptable." The guilt of his feelings for her – the intense attachment that defied articulation – kept him away from her, but he was out of time now. It didn't matter any longer what he said or did.

"I know." Her admittance shocks him. "I knew when I was twelve that you and I had surpassed the friendship we should have had. We were too close. You were too kind and gentle with me for a knight and I was so attached to you. You were my hero and my protector… quite literally my knight in shining armor."

"And you were my princess. Always –"

"Your princess." She looks over at him. There are tears streaming down her face – tears he so wants to dry – but he cannot move. He cannot touch her. There are rules he must adhere to, even in privacy. Even today.

"I had the biggest crush on you then," she tells him. Her voice is that of a woman, not the child he'd known, and all at once she is an adult to him. She'd always retained a lightness and humor, but now it is gone. She has grown up and she will speak to him as a grown woman. "I was convinced that you were my knight and that meant I would marry you someday. It would be just like the fairytales."

"I've thought often of what life would have been like had you been born in Landis fewer years after I had been born," he confesses. "But perhaps we would have never come to know each other as we do in this world."

She smiles sadly and shakes her head. "No. I've never felt that I was fated to be a princess or a queen or Rasler's wife. I never thought it was my destiny to befriend anyone I've befriended or meet anyone I've met, but I am convinced that fate brought you from Landis to me. I cannot even imagine the person I would be had I not met you."

"And I –" Basch's voice shakes with emotion that he tries to bite back, "cannot imagine my life had I not come here."

Silence falls between them like a veil, and the distance between them seems far longer than a few feet. Ashe rubs her own arms and Basch sees that she still wears the ring he gave her a year prior.

"In your world where I am a Landisian milkmaid," Ashe starts and Basch smiles, "am I happy?"

"Very. I cannot imagine a chronically unhappy Ashe."

She grins. "Do you and I live happily ever after?"

"We do."

"We live happily ever after in my fantasy where you are a prince."

"I suppose I shall have to be content with knowing there is a Prince Basch fon Ronsenberg in your mind that wakes up each morning beside his Princess Ashe."

"And I shall have to content myself with knowing there is a Landisian Ashe that wakes each morning beside her Basch in another reality, and I'll know she is happy."

Basch nods silently, folding his hands in front of him to keep from fidgeting. "Are you happy with marrying Rasler?"

"I am," she tells him. It both warms and chills him. "He is a good man and we will be happy together. I would have no other… in this reality."

They are quiet again and the words Basch must say pain him greatly. "I must go."

"I must sleep."

They both nod in agreement, and Basch bows to her before walking towards her door. He is intercepted, though, as he reaches for the handle.

"I do love you, Basch. I do."

He cannot say it back. It is against his code and every rule he has ever known. He swallows hard and hopes the pain in his eyes and his hand on her cheek tells her enough. For a long moment he simply looks at her and strokes the side of her face with his calloused thumb. He wants to remember her as she is now – still his Ashe and no one else's.

She stands on her toes – for she must to reach him – and presses a kiss to his cheek. He closes his eyes, taking in the warmth of her body so close and the heat of her lips on his skin and he is thankful that she lingers there for a moment. His hand falls to her waist and they are timeless, floating between their three realities, and for a moment, all three are tangible. It is a safe place and Basch tries to lose himself in it…

_A million miles and years away Basch cries. He has found his air and he screams in agony. His hands are bound and his feet are shackled. There is nothing around him to hold onto. He simply screams in pain and answers his own echo with more cries._

_ As the pain in his chest intensifies he realizes that he cannot live in a world where he is aware that Ashe does not exist. He cannot accept a reality where she does not draw breath. He looks around for some instrument of death to end his own life with, but there is nothing. He is contained. He is trapped, and all he can do is scream, and when his body is too exhausted to continue, he curls up and slips into the Landis in his mind and seeks out his beautiful milkmaid wife…_


	7. Better than throwing it away

**Ever At Your Service**

**[Part VII]  
**

Basch is quiet. Nearly two years after Dalmasca lost her sovereignty he hangs in Nalbina as silent as possible. He has not the energy even to hum or whistle to amuse himself. Despite his boredom and irritation with the silence, he hopes the footsteps in the distance don't prove to be visitors for him.

His worst fears are confirmed as he sees Gabranth striding down the walkway in full armor, his cape billowing behind him. He is alone – an ominous sign – and he removes his helm when he reaches Basch's cage.

"You have grown very thin, Basch. Less than a shadow. Less than a man."

Basch says nothing and Gabranth considers him for a long moment. "Sentenced to death, and yet you live. Why?"

Basch growls. Ondore had lied about so many things when he could have stood with Dalmasca and at least remain honest. He could have saved Ashe if he had tried. It sickens Basch to know that, had circumstances been different, he would have taken Ashe to Bhujerba himself for safety.

Ashe…

"To silence Ondore. How many times must I say it?"

"Is that all?"

"Why not ask Vayne himself? Is he not one of your masters?"

Basch knows his brother will take this personally. Noah never did take kindly to the ideat hat he was someone's lap dog.

Noah does not respond to the jab. "We caught a leader of the insurgence. She is being brought from Rabanastre. The woman Amalia. Who could that be?"

Basch's breath catches in his throat and the memory comes quick and clear. He can almost smell the incense in the room.

"_If we're going to go out in the city then you can't call me by my name," Ashe says as she puts on peasant clothing for her and Basch's secret outing before her sixteenth birthday. She does not know he plans for it to be their last. He does not want to tell her until after her party when he absolutely has to. "Call me Amalia if you must call me anything."_

_He smiles at her as she puts on her hat. She's drawn up her hair and removed all of her make up tonight in attempt to make herself look like a boy to add to her cover. Basch must admit, it has worked quite nicely with the loose shirt and peasant pants she wears, though her boots are a bit too clean to be convincing for a teenage boy. He smirks at her. She is still beautiful._

"_Amalia?"_

"_Amalia."_

Call me Amalia if you have to call me anything.

She is alive. Suddenly the world doesn't seem so dark. If Ashe is alive it is a better place and there is hope for Dalmasca.

Basch sighs as the truth settles on him once more. She may be alive, but he will be stuck in this cage forever. She will never know he was innocent. He will never have the chance to tell her he would have never hurt her or her father, or that he tried to save her husband.

There is nothing he can do. His hands are quite literally bound.

And she's caught. Gabranth knows who she is. He doubts she will live much longer.

Couldn't Noah have just left him believing she was already dead? Basch knows his brother will tell him when she has died. Perhaps he will even arrange for Basch to see it as a form of torture. Will Basch be bound? Will he at least be able to scream that he is sorry, that he would have willingly given his life for her, before they spill her precious blood?

Noah puts his helm back on and his voice changes to something even colder than what it naturally is.

"Such a faithful hound to cling so to a fallen kingdom."

"Better than throwing it away."

Better than throwing her away.

Hours later Basch finds himself in the Dalmasca Estersand. He, Reks' brother, the pirate Balthier and the Viera whose name he forgets in his post-escape haze are taking rest outside of the Barheim passage. For the first time he is able to breathe fresh air and feel the sand between his fingers. He leans back against a tree and closes his eyes, taking in each sensation that he's missed over these past two years.

In the distance he can hear Vaan and Balthier arguing about bringing him along. It doesn't matter much, does it? He can simply slip into Rabanastre through one of the tunnels or the hidden gates used to evacuate royalty in an emergency. He doubts they will be guarded. If he can find Vossler he knows he can find a way to Ashe.

Will the Empire believe Ashe's claim to the throne? They will not honor it, to be sure, but will they simply behead her for her attempt to claim royal status?

If they do not kill her swiftly and make it known, he will have to hand the Dusk Shard over. Raminas had entrusted its location to him and him alone. Ashe will be completely trapped without it…

"_Basch?" Raminias approaches the knight slowly, as old age has taken his speed. Basch turns on his heel at the sound of his king's voice. It is the night after Ashe's wedding and Basch had intended to go drown his misplaced anxieties and grief in several tankards of ale, but he's a bit relieved at the possibility of something constructive to do. He bows with respect, the metal of his formal armor making a noticeable sound. He has been wearing it all day for special events, and it has become exhausting._

"_Yes, my king?"_

"_There is something important that I must show you," Raminas says. He gestures Basch towards a door at the side of the atrium. Basch, confused, follows._

"_Has something happened?" he asks. The king only shakes his head and silently leads Basch into a labyrinth of corridors that he has never quite mastered. Basch, ever respectful, says nothing, though he is concerned that Raminas should not be walking around like this so late in the night. He keeps a close eye on the old man and follows him obediently._

_Raminas leads Basch to a signet in the ground and withdraws a small glowing stone from within his robes. "This is the crescent stone," Raminas says. "There are many drained crescent stones in this city. Should the time come, use a sunstone to charge it. I trust you know how to do this?"_

"_Yes, my king."_

_He holds the stone above the embossed lion on the floor. It reacts, glows, and in the distance Basch hears something unlatch. Without a word, Raminas settles the stone back in some hidden pocket of his clothing and walks on, leaving Basch to follow him to the northwest corner of the room. There is something glowing behind a grate and Raminas reaches out to touch it. Basch steps forward to stop him – it could be dangerous – but it is too late. The light reacts and a passage opens beside them._

"_Ah, yes," Raminas whispers. He enters the revealed room. Basch looks around for onlookers and finds none. Surely this was Raminas' plan. Why else show Basch this secret in the dead of night?_

_Basch follows Raminas into the room and realizes that this is the palace treasury, though he __is sure it is not the only one. He marvels at the glittering trinkets all around him for a moment, then realizes that Raminas has approached a statue of a goddess. As he approaches, her head and headdress open to reveal a beautiful, glowing stone that seems to shine brighter and brighter, and when Raminas reaches out and lays a hand on it, the stone reaches its full color._

"_What is that?" Basch asks. Raminas smiles at him._

"_This is nethicite – the Dusk Shard. It is the only proof of the royal blood of Dalmasca."_

_Raminas removes his hand from the stone and gestures Basch towards it, inviting him to touch it. He does so warily, glancing questioningly at Raminas. The stone, when the touches it, does not react, and is perfectly cold to the touch._

"_Why have you shown me this? Surely it is a secret?"_

"_It is," Raminas says, "but I am the only person who knows of its location. Ashe knows of its existence, as does Rasler – his family has a similar stone – but I needed to know someone else knew of it should Ashe's lineage ever require proof."_

"_Why me?" Basch knows better than to ask too many questions that delve too deeply into the Dalmasca family secrets. He only wishes to know why Raminas would entrust him with something so precious – his daughter's rights to her kingdom._

"_Because I know you care for Ashe. Should anything happen to Dalmasca, I know that it will be you that remains by her side and now it is you that can restore her to the throne."_

"_Why not Vossler?"_

"_Vossler cares too much for politics," Raminas says, though it is clear he bears no animosity towards the knight for it. "He would ask too many questions before simply taking Ashe to safety. He would try to find political ways to safety rather than physical ones. For all his training an experience, Captain Azelas was never practical."_

_Basch nods. Should the war come – and as things stand, it seems certain – he will be sure to stay at her side. He will be taken for battle, of course, but should the country fall he will come back and retrieve her and the Dusk Shard and take them to Ondore, the only man he would know to trust in such a state._

"_Can I trust you to keep her safe should Dalmasca fall?"_

_Basch bows to his king. "Of course."_

"You!"

Basch is snapped from his musings. He looks up to see Balthier looking at him. He pitches an apple across several yards at Basch, who catches it and runs his fingers over it. It is beautiful and heavy in his hands.

"I haven't had fruit in years," Basch tells him.

"You don't deserve it," Vaan shoots back. Basch cannot blame him, but he hopes that someday – the sooner the better – the boy will understand along with the rest of Rabanastre.

Basch looks out over the sand and into the water barely visible beyond. He has failed to keep his promise to Raminas for two years, but he may be able to do it now. He will return to Rabanastre and find Vossler before making any decisions, for he must know what he can of the circumstances. He will find Ashe and give her the Dusk Shard. He will find a way to keep her safe. She believes he took away her family, her kingdom and everything she's ever held dear, and Basch will tear down the Archadian Empire with his bare hands to prove he is innocent.

He only hopes it will not come to that.

* * *

Author's Note: First of all, I want to thank those of you who have reviewed. I love reviews. They absolutely, positively make my day.

Secondly, I want to point out that I am only using the _italics_ and straight text to indicate a change from present to memory, but since present is going to become more dominant I will be using it to denote the present time.

Finally, if you happen upon this fic, please review! I'm not too proud to beg and I will love you forever.

Thanks,

BeneathAngelsWings

PS: If you have a suggestion, feel free to give it!


	8. She falls into his ready arms

**Summary:** Ashe remembers the last time she saw Basch while on the Leviathan.

Ashe sits on the bridge of the Leviathan with her chin in her hands. They've been kind enough to leave her unrestrained, but she is not allowed to leave the bridge during the day. Listening to the Imperials belittle her people is bad enough, but hearing Judge Ghis call her a liar is unbearable.

They spoke of Basch for a long time yesterday, but the conversation was very formal, and they made certain to that she was listening. They stood close to her, often asked for confirmation or some sort of response, and tried to get an emotional reaction from her. Though anger bubbled up inside of her Ashe did not give them the satisfaction.

It was clear though that Basch was guilty. He was dead. He'd taken everything from her and now he was dead. She could never even seek the satisfaction of killing him herself.

_But would I? _She has asked herself that question many times. She was up all night in her little cell thinking about it. _Could I ever look at him after everything and kill him?_

She thinks of their last conversation and feels sick. He'd held her knowing exactly what he planned to do next…

_Ashe paced in her room dressed in black. She twisted her wedding ring in circles on her finger incessantly. Servants knocked often to offer company, sympathy or service, but she always refused to answer the door. Always. She wanted no one but her father and Rasler and neither were here._

_Her father was on his way to Nalbina to surrender everything. In two days' time her kingdom would be dust settled atop Archadia's stack of conquests. She bit back her tears though she was alone and began another lap around her room._

_She had not slept since word had reached her a day and a half ago of Rasler's death. She had not rested since her father left for Nalbina. She'd never felt more alone in her life._

_She'd asked anyone who might know what had happened to Basch, but they'd been given no word – Rasler's death was all that the messengers had carried. Did other women not need to know of their husbands, sons, brothers and friends? Were they not as deserving as she? Why was she fortunate enough to have her heart ripped from her chest before all the others?_

_The soldiers had come in hours ago, exhausted and broken in their bodies and souls. Ashe had watched them flood the square and run to their loved ones from the steps to the palace. She hadn't even seen Vossler in the crowd. He'd run off to find his sister no doubt. Ashe was useless now, wasn't she? In a matter of hours she would be a princess of nothing._

_Is that what Basch had thought? That she was nothing now, not worth coming to see? Ashe slowed down as her knees started to shake. Had he too forsaken her?_

_A sharp knock came to her door._

"_Lady Ashe?"_

_Her nurse. Hourly checks._

"_Go away."_

"_Captain Basch is coming. He sent someone ahead to tell you so –"_

_The nurse does not even finish. Ashe rips open the door and shoves past her. She is barefoot, tear streaked and splotchy but she doesn't care. She runs, the long black dress she wears billowing behind her. She holds it up in one hand and races down the long, winding stairs into the main atrium. It is raining outside the pillars that lead to the main courtyard and into the city. _

_She leaves the palace despite the yelling of her nurse and the guards. They call for her to come back, yell that she's in no state to get wet, but she keeps running. She is faster than all of them, for Basch taught her to run and train for endurance. He had taught her everything._

_She runs through the courtyard and to the steps that spill into the streets of Rabanastre. She __spots Basch crossing the deserted square, for even those who love to dance in the rain cannot find the energy to do so._

_It has not rained in months. Ashe thinks that the sky is crying for her fallen kingdom._

_She rushes down the steps, determined to reach Basch as fast as possible. She watches him, her eyes never leaving him. His cape is draped over his arms, his armor loosened on his body. His shoulders are drooped in exhaustion and he is barely lifting his feet from the ground._

_The rain beats against Ashe's back as she screams his name. Her body, sensitive in its grief, feels bruised from the water droplets, though she knows that is impossible. _

_She sees Basch raise his head. He sees her. His cape bearing the Dalmascan crest falls from his arms and into a puddle below as he runs to her, his raw determination giving him energy. He catches her as she reaches the end of the stairs, gathering her up as she falls into his ready arms._

_If he cannot take her grief he will take the weight from her weary body with his own._

"_Basch, Basch…" She repeats his name over and over as she clings to him and he simply holds her as the rain comes harder. He doesn't have the energy to tell her that they need to go inside. It seems useless._

_Maybe the gods will wash away their pain if they let the rain hit them._

"_Shhhh," he whispers, "I've got you."_

"_Where were you?" she demands, pulling away from him. He lets her feet touch the pavement but holds her up._

_It is the only service he can offer her now._

"_I fell behind. I was…" he hesitates. She does not need to think about it, but he is sure the matter is on her mind anyway. "A chocobo cannot run when it carries the weight of two men."_

"_Two?" she asks, then understands. Tears well in her eyes. "You carried him back yourself?"_

_He nods solemnly. Thunder rolls in the distance. "I did. I would trust your husband to no one else."_

"_Where is he now?"_

"_I took him to the church. The priests will tend to his body properly."_

_Ashe buries her face in his chest, gratitude overwhelming her. What must it have taken from Basch to carry him back? He made himself vulnerable for her._

"_Thank you," is all she can say._

_They stand in silence for a long time. He holds her, alternately stroking her soaked hair and her back. It doesn't matter if anyone sees them now. Who would care of a knight and princess of a fallen kingdom? They were both now to be citizens of Archadia._

"_They've taken everything," she says. He can barely hear her over the rain, so he loosens his hold on her. She leans into him as more tears come and take her strength. With great effort Basch lifts her into his arms and carries her up the steps. She does not protest. She buries her face in his neck._

"_Nay," Basch assures her. "They intend to let you keep some of your sovereignty. The people still love you and someday we will take Dalmasca back. And you still have your father and Vossler."_

"_And you."_

"_And me. Always, my Princess."_

_He carries her past the guards, past the worried servants and up three flights of stairs to her room. He nudges her door open and enters with her. The water running off of their bodies is audible as it hits the floor._

"_I'm sorry, Basch."_

"_You've nothing to apologize for. This is my duty, after all." He sets her down on a wicker bench settled in the corner. She can barely sit up straight – her strength is gone now that Basch is here, for she can be vulnerable only in front of him. He kneels before her on the floor. A week ago he would never have settled so close to her. It would have been _improper.

"_It is my job to protect you and Dalmasca under any circumstances, come what may. It is my __duty to serve the King of Dalmasca in valor and faith, to protect the weak and defenseless of Dalmasca, to give aid to her widows and orphans, and to refrain from giving offense to any of her people. It is my charge to live by honor and glory for Dalmasca, to refuse reward for my services except what Dalmasca's king sees fit, to fight for the welfare of Dalmasca's people and to obey those in authority. I must guard the honor of my fellow knights, scorn injustice and cruelty and keep faith…"_

_Ashe listened as Basch repeated his knightly vows. His voice became tighter and thicker with emotion as he went one and she hadn't the heart to stop him. How could she? They meant everything to him._

"_It is my duty to always speak the truth," his voice cracks once, "to see through any task begun, respect the honor of women," again, "to never refuse a challenge from an equal or turn my back upon a foe of Dalmasca." It breaks. _

"_It is my charge to protect Dalmasca, Ashe," he tells her. He bows his head, resting it against her lap and she leans forward to cry with him. He clings to her and she to him, clutching at his armor and his long hair as it tangles in her fingers._

"_You are Dalmasca now," he tells her. "You always have been for me, from the moment Vossler brought me here. You were all that mattered and I will keep you and your house safe. I will guard you and your father not only with my life, but with my immortal soul."_

"_Basch –"_

"_Please, Ashe," he whispers. She has never seen him like this and she hopes she never will again. The emotion breaking his strong, deep voice is breaking what was left unbroken inside her, for if the world has ended so far as to make Basch dissolve then this is all real._

_It is real. _

"_Let me stay with you. I know I have failed, but please let me remain your guard."_

_She cringes as all the beautiful words she has ever heard in her life rush back to her. So many of them were spoken without emotion or caring in formal settings by people who cared nothing for what they were speaking of, and only one phrase comes to her as being strong enough to bind him to her in her heart. Only one whisper seems powerful enough to give him the confirmation he asks for._

"_I would have no other."_

She cringes now as she remembers how she wasted Rasler's words on the traitor. The questions buzz around in her mind again.

How long was he planning it?

Had he always hated Dalmasca?

Was it anger or was he working for Archadia?

_Was this somehow her fault?_

"Is something wrong, _Princess?" _

Ashe glares up at Ghis. He is looming over her, and with his armor on she cannot help but be intimidated. She pities him – his costume must be heavy and hot. At least the Dalmascan soldiers were able to wear light armor when not in battle.

"I am fine," she says, her voice stern. "I am simply weary of these games."

"You should be amused by our coming guests," he says. She can almost see the smirk beneath his helm, though she has never seen the man's face. "They too are a part of the insurgence."

"Resistance," she corrects for the thousandth time.

"Ah, they approach."

Ashe stands from her seat and walks to the center of the room. She will not be denied any opportunity that may present its self to speak with them, even if it is in carefully veiled phrases to convey some message. She has no clue who would have been foolish enough to be caught… unless it was intentional. The figures, obscured by the tinted glass doors, seem to be many. She counts four, one of them clearly Viera by the shape of her ears.

They enter and Ashe realizes it is the group she met in the Garamsythe waterway. She had been told the party had been taken to Nalbina for execution.

And then she sees the man who wasn't with them before. He wears mismatched armor and soft leather shoes. There is a new scar across his right eye, but the hair is the same… and the eyes… and the face, his lips…

She gasps – it is him! The traitor is here and she knows she should feel only hate and fear, but there is more than that inside of her. Relief, anger, and something she would rather not recognize all fight to the surface and she cannot help but approach him.

His hands are bound – he can do nothing.

"Majesty," he says as she comes closer and she cannot read him. Could she ever, really? If he could do such a thing to her family – to her kingdom and to her – did she ever really know him?

No, this man is a traitor. He is a stranger who took everything from her. She raises her hand and slaps him with what strength she can muster in her shock.

"After what you've done," she cries, "How dare you!"

Basch looks down at her and his eyes are pleading, but for what she does not know. She glares at him, feeling that she is farther from him now that they share the same air than she has been since she saw him last two years ago. "You're supposed to be dead."

"Come now, come now," Ghis says, approaching. She wishes he would leave, for this feels far two personal to have witnesses. The things she wants to say to Basch…

"Have you forgotten your manners?" Ashe is unsure of who he asks. "This is hardly the courtesy due… the late Princess Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca."

_I do not deserve to bear the name Dalmasca, _she thinks, _if my judgment is poor enough to trust this traitor._

"Princess?" The boy who caught her in the waterway looks surprised and it disturbs her once more that they did not recognize her. Did the royal family have so little contact with the people that they were known only in name and not in face?

"To be sure," Ghis says. His tone is snide and mocking but Ashe cannot even tear her eyes from Basch long enough to glare at him. "She bears no proof of her former station. No different from any mean member of the insurgence."

"The resistance," Ashe corrects. Basch is trying to communicate something to her and she thinks it is an apology and appeal for her understanding. She thinks he wants her to believe him innocent… but she only thought she knew him. She cannot trust her heart to read him now.

"The Consul asks the ministry of the disthroned royal family in restoring peace to Dalmasca. Those who foster instability and unrest, who claim royal blood without proof... they shall meet their fate at the gallows. There are no exceptions."

She cannot bear to look at him any longer. She turns to Ghis and glares at him. "I will not play puppet to Vayne."

It is only then that Basch speaks and his voice melts her just as it did the last time they met. "King Raminas entrusted me with a task," he says. Her heart sinks and she looks at him slowly, hoping he will not betray the Dusk Shard to the Imperials. "Should the time come, he bade me give you something of great importance. It is your birthright: the Dusk Shard."

His eyes flicker from Ashe to Ghis for a moment, as it is to him he speaks. "It will warrant the quality of her blood. Only I know where to find it."

"Wait," she starts. She doesn't dare step toward him, though she longs to. "You took my father's life! Why spare mine now? You would have me live in shame!"

"If that is your duty, yes."

The boy – Vaan? – speaks, but Ashe does not hear him. She is staggered by Basch's audacity. How dare he speak of duty to her when he broke every vow he made – he broke the vows he made to her.

The last words he spoke to her were of duty.

_There is another sharp knock on Ashe's door and it breaks Basch from his trance. It pulls him from his grief and defeat as Ashe looks up to it and calls for whoever is on the other side to come in. Basch slides down to the floor, placing a few inches between himself and Ashe on instinct to preserve their decency. _

_One of Ashe's maids enters. "Captain Azelas bade me come to you," she says, giving the customary bow. "He was certain you would be here as well, sir." She bows to Basch as well._

"_What is it?" Ashe asks with a sniff. She wipes the tears from her cheeks, but it is useless. Anyone could see she had been crying and knew she had every right to. _

"_There have been rumors of an assassination plot," she tells them. Basch furrows his brow. "The king has many guards, but it has made Captain Azelas wary. He wishes you to accompany him with a small contingent of soldiers to Nabradia to seek out the king and ensure his safety._

"_Thank you," Ashe says as a way of dismissal. Basch climbs to his feet and staggers a bit – a testimony to his weariness, as his balance is usually impeccable._

"_Basch, send someone else in your place," she says calmly, sure that these rumors are just that – rumors. Even Vayne Solidor would not be so cruel. "Vossler can go. He is quite capable –"_

"_Did I not just tell you that I would lay down my very life to protect you and Dalmasca?" he asks. His voice bears the sharp edge of determination. "Did I not just promise you that I would do everything in my power to keep my vows even though the kingdom has been compromised?"_

"_Yes, but –"_

"_I will go."_

"_You are exhausted," she says, getting to her feet, "injured and grieving. Let Vossler go."_

"_Vossler is in no better shape than I."_

"_Vossler did not carry a dead man back to Rabanastre."_

"_I will bear the shame of knowing I did not go to protect your father, Ashe," he says. He steps towards her and gazes down at her with a hardened look, though his eyes are bloodshot and weary. "It is not because he is a king. It is because he is your father and I will not see you suffer further from any of my failings."_

_She knows better than to tell him to stay. If she begged or ordered him to he might stay at her side but it is now who he is. Basch is a solider and this is his duty, and it is her weakness that makes him feel he must take action._

"_Be careful," she implores him, her voice barely more than a whisper._

"_I will back before you can miss me."_

"_I already miss you."_

_They look at each other for a long moment. Basch carefully steps towards her and brushes her hair from her face. It is a simple gesture, but under the weight of the day it feels strangely intimate – and right. _

"_I will take you from here when this is over," he says slowly. His words are carefully chosen. "Perhaps south to a place where you can rest for a while."_

"_I would like that."_

"_Plan for it," he tells her. "Tell me where you wish to go and I will take you there… as your guard."_

_She nods. He leans forward slowly and unsurely and presses his lips to her forehead in a careful kiss of reassurance and promise. She closes her eyes and he lingers close to her for a moment just as she did months ago when she married Rasler. Slowly she wraps her arms around his waist, intending to hold him there until he absolutely had to leave, but he pulls away abruptly and walks to the door leaving her stunned and cold._

"_Basch –"_

"_I will be back soon, my princess."_

_He sweeps from the room without looking back at her. Ashe stares at the closed door for a long time, willing one of the men she loves to walk through it and take her pain._

If that is my duty…

"Don't interrupt," Ashe snaps at the boy, though she does not know what he has said. He gasps, and she feels he is overreacting to her response until she realizes he is pulling something from his pocket – something she recognizes though she has never seen it.

The Dusk Shard.

"Vaan," Basch says, "That stone."

"It was in the palace treasure."

The boy broke into her home! It bothers Ashe that he has been in her home more recently than she.

"Well, well." Balthier looks interested and Ghis laughs.

"Splendid! You brought the stone with you! This spares us a great deal of trouble."

"Don't give it to him!" The stone means more to Ghis than it seems. He will not simply use it to prove her lineage. There is something more, Ashe simply knows. An imperial guard restrains her and she nearly screams to him to get his hands off of her.

Vaan hesitates but his voices seem limited. He looks to Balthier who seems to understand the circumstances better and Fran nods. Ashe watches Balthier closely – he knows more than he lets on. He is no mere pirate.

"You have to promise," Vaan says, holding the stone out to Ghis, "no executions."

"A judge's duty is to the law," Ghis says coldly. "Take them away. Lady Ashe is to be quartered separately."

Ashe looks to Basch for some sort of plan or indication that he even has one, but she knows he doesn't when he simply glances at her. That old pain is in his eyes. She hangs her head and allows herself to be taken away. Her short hair falls into her eyes and she hopes it will hide her tears until she is alone.

* * *

Author's Note: This post was so long that LiveJournal wouldn't take it. I had to split it up into three separate posts, so I'm sorry if your eyes hurt now.

In other words, thank you for your reviews (BaschAshe, I kind of 3 you and will be reading your stuff soon)!


	9. She would have laughed

**She would have laughed.**

The escape was not as seamless as Basch would have liked, but as he walks into the Bhujerba aerodrome he can find little to complain about. They escaped Ghis with minor scratches – he bears the worst of it in a sizable slash across his back and several cuts to his legs, but they have been bandaged by Balthier. He doubts the pirate knows much of first aid, but the gauze seems secure and for now that is good enough.

He sees Vossler and Ashe step off to the side as the others relax now as their feet are on solid ground. Basch pauses for a long moment to look Ashe over for injuries – it would be just like her to ignore a cut until it became infected out of refusal to admit that she is, in fact, a hume.

What he sees instead shocks him. She has grown even more in the past two years. Her hair is shorter than he saw it last – its cut not even, but how could she possibly set food in a proper hairdressers' shop these days? Her legs seem longer, for they are thinner, but they are also chorded with muscle, as are her upper arms. She clearly did not forget the lessons he taught her, and he is certain she is a more formidable battle opponent. She did not fight Ghis today – she stepped to the back and healed the others as they took hits – but her actions were more courageous than he could have imagined.

Cautiously, he approaches them, for he knows if he leaves himself to stare at her for too long he will never stop, for she is more beautiful than he remembers.

The pair falls silent at his arrival and Basch clears his throat, remembering the days when they would speak freely over an evening snack. "Shall we seek out Ondore?"

"Perhaps you forget all that Ondore has wrought," Ashe says. They are the first civil words she has spoken to him and they untie a tight knot in his chest. It is the first step to having her trust him again.

"I do not forget, Majesty. It was by his counsel, dangerous thought it may have been, that we were able to free you." He chooses his words carefully, lest he anger her. It is a chance he is not willing to take, for he is unsure whether or not he can bear her hatred for a moment longer than he must. "You must meet with him, Your Highness, and give ear to his words. He may act in league with the Empire, but his heart is not."

"It is as he says," Vossler confirms. Basch watches Ashe closely, wondering when he became so difficult to read. He'd been able to take her emotions from her every action before, but now he supposes the threads that are their lives, as Larsa called them, are no longer intertwined, for Ashe no longer cares for him in any capacity.

Once he'd hoped she could love him with the depth he loved her. Now he only hopes she does not wish to poison him.

"I ought not have kept Ondore at so great a distance for so long a time." Vossler only criticizes himself when he truly deserves it. "I have played the fool."

"You were only being cautious."

_Better he be overly cautious with her_, Basch thinks, _than be reckless and trust those who deserve._

_Better than throwing her away._

"I would ask you for some time." Vossler addresses them both. "On our own, we struggle in vain to restore Dalmasca. I must search out some other way. Until I should find it, I would have Basch remain at your side," he tells Ashe. There is a hint of disgust on her face and it feels like a blade through Basch's chest "Doubt him you may, but I measure his loyalty to Dalmasca no less than my own."

"I know you would not speak so lightly. Very well."

_When did she come to trust Vossler more than me?_

Vossler turns to Basch. "Keep her well. Go to Ondore, and there await my return."

Vossler strode away from them, and though Basch is grateful to be given the chance to speak with Ashe without Vossler between them, he is saddened to see his old friend leave. With Vossler present, Basch knows, Ashe would hold her tongue. They'd only spoken freely with each other, and a part of him dreads her unfiltered sentiments.

They take their time walking to Ondore's mansion. Ashe does not feel it is necessary to conceal her identity here, but Basch is cautious, scanning the faces of the citizens for any sign of recognition. He lags behind, watching after the others as they investigate storefronts and take in the magnificent views that Bhujerba has to offer.

Though he looks after the young Rabanastrans and the pirates, he watches Ashe especially close. She seems disinterested in everything and walks slowly, staring straight ahead. Sometimes she stops to look in a dream-like state, and it takes nearly an hour for Basch to muster the courage he needs to approach her.

"Majesty?" He does not want to startle her as he approaches from behind. The stone rail she leans on is the only barrier between her and the clouds below, and with such sadness on her face her proximity to death bothers him.

She does not acknowledge him. He looks over his shoulder to see Vaan, Penelo, Balthier and Fran sitting on benches and taking a rest. They have found food and drink and for the moment look content. He turns his back to them and moves to Ashe, leaning against the railing himself only a few feet from her. He dare not stand too close.

"When did you stop calling me 'princess' and begin calling me 'majesty?'" she asks. She twists the rings on her fingers and Basch notices she has moved the ring he gave her to her left hand. It rests beside her wedding ring on her middle finger. Her digits seem slimmer now – no doubt she eats less while on the run. Perhaps it simply didn't fit any longer?

_But she still wears it._

"When you became the rightful Queen of Dalmasca."

She scoffs and turns her head away from him. "I will never be queen. This attempt to restore the kingdom is foolish. We will not succeed."

"Why do you say that?"

"Archadia is too powerful and the resistance is sparse. We will all meet our end before our errand is complete… but attempting to complete it seems to be the only path that I can live with."

Basch nods in understanding and looks down at the clouds below. He has lost his honor, his dignity and his brother to this war. How easy would it be to simply fall over the barrier into the mist below and let it claim him?

"I will aid you in any way that I can."

"You do not have to," she says. Her voice is tight and controlled. "I release you from your vows to Dalmasca, Captain Basch. You need not stay with me, despite what Vossler says."

"Did the vow I made to you personally mean so little to you upon our last meeting?"

"Were you planning to kill my father as you wiped away my tears?"

"I did not kill your father," he says, the anger clear in his voice. The tension between them is tangible.

"I do not understand why Vaan's brother would lie." She turns to him, her eyes narrow and venomous. "Why would any solider of my kingdom lie to make you appear guilty?"

Basch turns from her, closing his eyes. He cannot look at her.

"I spoke to you of my brother when you were a child, did I not?"

"You did."

"You were young… we did not talk of Landis often. Perhaps you've forgotten, or I failed to mention, that he is my twin brother."

"You expect me to believe that two twin brothers became knights of two warring nations and both were in the same place on the same night?"

"It was no coincidence that the rumors of assassins targeting your father reached Vossler when they did," Basch tells her. He has had years to think on this – to work out every detail of his brother's mind. "He knew I would come. Our ideals in life are quite different, but we are brothers. Noah – Judge Gabranth – would know my loyalty to Dalmasca would be equal to his own for Archades, our mother's homeland."

She gasps and looks at him in surprise. Did Basch tell her so little of his life, or was she merely too young to care? "You are part Archadian?"

"Only in blood, majesty. Only in blood."

Ashe considers him, and for the first time since they were reunited, she looks into his eyes without contempt. He stares back, hoping that she can see all he wishes to say and cannot – that she can see his innocence.

"I could never do anything that would bring you pain, princess. You know this."

She says nothing and only turns from him, walking to the others. Basch sighs and hangs his head in agitation. When did she become so difficult.

He follows after her, feeling ever more a failure.

Kidnapped. Ashe wonders if her plan was foolhardy or not. She looks around the Strahl as the atmosphere beings to calm and leans back against the barrier between the cockpit and the rest of the ship. Fran is settled in her copilot seat, Penelo is wrapping a blanket around a sleeping Vaan, and Balthier flies with only one hand on the controls, ever at ease with everything. Ashe wonders if he is ever truly ruffled by anything.

Basch sits down on the bench behind the cockpit area and groans, garnering Ashe's attention. She makes no move toward him, and it seems he takes no notice of her as he peels off the straps of his shoes to reveal the bandages beneath. They have bled through, and Ashe cringes as she watches him take them off. Beneath the dried blood over his legs she can see other scars – some faded, some quite bold and most of them undeserved.

Most of them.

He takes his bottle of water and a towel and cleans the wounds and his skin. They do not appear deep, but the quantity of them looks painful.

"Do you need help?" Penelo approaches, having left Vaan to sleep in his seat. Balthier and Fran take no notice of what goes on behind them and Ashe suspects they do not want to get too involved.

Basch smiles at Penelo warmly. "I am fine, but thank you."

"Nonsense," she says. "I've been cleaning up Vaan's injuries for years, and the other orphans don't exactly stay out of trouble."

"Vaan told me of your parents. I am sorry."

She shrugs a little and gives him a lighthearted smile but it does not reach her eyes. She pulls a first aid kit from the top of the cabinet and shuffles through it. "Is it just your legs?" she asks him.

Basch shakes his head. "No. There is another on my back."

"Well, take your shirt off and let me clean it up too. No doubt it needs it."

"It is a shame we cannot use magic for such things."

"Perhaps we will be able to soon." Penelo is an optimist, that much is clear. Ashe watches as she kneels before Basch and begins cleaning the cuts on his left leg. Basch seems a bit uncomfortable as he removes his protective and his vest. It is only then that Penelo takes notice of Ashe.

"I am sorry, your majesty –"

"Ashe. Call me Ashe."

"Ashe." Penelo blushes. "Would you prefer to…" She gestures to Basch.

Ashe takes a deep, awkward breath. "No. I'm sure you are better at it than I."

Penelo nods a bit and continues as Basch peels off his linen shirt with a cringe. Ashe sees that the bandage has slipped. The cut is wide and deep and she wonders how he was able to stand the pain and agitation all day. He glances at Ashe and then looks down, Ashamed. She does not understand until Basch turns his back towards her to let Penelo survey the damage.

There is little skin left untouched. Long, thin marks cover his back and few of them look like they have seen enough sun to fade even the slightest bit. She has never seen anything like it before, but she knows what the scars are.

Marks of whipping and torture.

"You'll need stiches," Penelo says quietly, but with levity in her voice that Ashe hopes lessens Basch's anxiety.

Ashe cannot watch. She cannot look at him knowing the pain he has borne for her country. If speaks the truth then he was only in Nabradia because of her weakness. It was his devotion to _her_, not just Dalmasca that forced him to go with Vossler that day, and it was her weakness that put the scars on his body. It could have been her hand holding the whip.

Fran has settled into a seat to rest, so Ashe moves as far away from Basch as she can get and sits beside Balthier at the front of the ship. She looks out into the night sky. The pirate glances at her, then returns his sight to the nothing in front of them.

"Troubled, Princess."

"I am fine," she assures him.

"I know more of what weighs on you than you think," he says. It is not an invitation to talk, she knows, but a statement – something he wishes her to know. She simply nods to him and leans back in Fran's seat.

The Strahl is silent, save for Basch's small moans of pain and Penelo's apologies as she stitches the gash in his back. Ashe tries not to listen, to block out the sound of pain, but she cannot help feeling that it should be her, not Penelo, mending the loyal knight at the rear of the ship.

She cannot bring herself to touch him. Three years ago, if she'd been told she'd someday feel this way towards him, she would have laughed.

* * *

**Author's Note: I found this chapter to be distinctly unsatisfying, but necessary. There will be more soon, promise! I intend to have this EpicFic complete before I have to go back to school.**

**Your comments mean more to me than you know.  
**


	10. Acceptance

**Acceptance****  
**

Ashe keeps Basch at a distance for weeks. While they traverse the sandsea to raid Raithwall's tomb she keeps close to Balthier, leaving Basch often to trail behind. She can barely look at him and she does not know why. It is too difficult to see him so changed – silenced and hardened by his time in Nalbina, his handsome face scarred. It seems that he's used all the words he has left in his first days of freedom, and now he is silent.

Every once in a while she turns to look at him. He is always alert and looking around, but when she turns, he knows and meets her gaze. Sometimes he smiles encouragingly, and others he just stares. At first it makes her uneasy, but when they reach a brief reprieve on a staircase in the tomb, she begins to understand.

Basch approaches her as she tests her wrist. Her sword arm took a particularly rough blow in their last skirmish and she is unsure whether or not she can continue to fight with the heavy weapon.

"Are you alright, majesty?"

She glances at him, then looks back to her arm. It is starting to swell a bit at the joint. She cringes and lowers her sword.

"I tire of this weapon. Will you trade me your bow for a while?"

"You are injured?" He is worried and takes a step closer, which she instantly counters with a step back.

"Never mind. I will be fine."

She turns from him and descends the stairs, closing her eyes as she does so. It seems so wrong that she should scorn the one person who she knows would give everything for her.

She looks down to Vossler who is helping Penelo adjust her armor. Vossler is kind, but she senses a working in the back of his mind that makes her uneasy.

Why not tell Basch she is sore and tired? What is to gain from lying to him? He would fight for himself and for her if she asked him to. It would seem that he would do anything, anything at all to make her trust him again, and while that makes her wary, despite all evidence that he is innocent and loyal still, having him take care of her duty for the time being would not be such a crime, would it? He means nothing to her now, after all.

At least that is what she tells herself.

She looks back up the stairs to see him leaning against the rail, rotating his ankle and bouncing on his foot. He is hurt too – it seems Basch is injured more often than the rest of the party and Ashe knows why. He rushes in first, willing to sacrifice himself to the hard blows of an energized and healthy enemy rather than let her or anyone else take them on.

She sighs and walks back up the stairs to him, the voices of the others echoing about in the cavernous room. "Are you alright?"

He nods and stands up straight immediately, unwilling to show weakness if she is not. She can nearly hear his thoughts as if he were speaking them.

They are no longer friends. Simply knight and princess.

Nothing more.

There is nothing left of the trust they'd built. Hers had been broken in the two years of doubt she'd faced and his had been broken when she did not believe his innocence. She looks up into his eyes and sees that they are equals in this game that they play.

He holds out his hand for her sword but she doesn't give it to him. "Your ankle is hurt. You shouldn't be carrying a heavy weapon."

"You've injured your wrist."

"I don't want you hurting yourself anymore. You're too valuable."

Basch sighs, and she can see him trying – and failing – to cover his agitation with her. She'd always wondered why he put up with her, and it is clear he is wondering the same thing now.

"Yes. A valuable fighter. I know my place."

"That is not what I meant."

Penelo yells from below – another beast has emerged – and the moment is stolen from Ashe as she hears Balthier's battle cry of "damn, again?" She sighs, takes up her sword despite the pain, though Basch reaches again to take it from her. She would have him suffer no more for her weaknesses.

No more.

* * *

Basch's calm façade is difficult to maintain. Being aboard the Leviathan is harsh enough, but this? This is beyond even his skill to bear with grace.

Vossler, the traitor, knew all along that Vayne was after the Dawn Shard, for it is the deifacted nethicite that will give him power. Not only was he willing to sell the destructive power to Archades to, in theory, regain some of Dalmasca's sovereignty, but he offered up Ashe to be Vayne's puppet.

_I trusted him,_ Basch thinks as they walk aboard the Shiva. For the first time in weeks he has not made sure Ashe was before him. Let them talk a few paces behind him and let her hurt gaze burn Vossler as it once burned him.

_So this is how Ashe felt when she thought her friend had betrayed her._

"When we return to Dalmasca," he hears Vossler say, "we can announce that you are alive and well. I will then continue our negotiations with the Empire. I believe Larsa is the key. He'll listen to us. We should trust him."

_Ashe will not take that lightly._

"Who are you, Vossler, to talk of trust."

Only one set of footsteps follows Basch now – the light ones of the princess. He smirks a bit at the irony of it all. He, who has given all he could to Dalmasca and Ashe, was innocent and seen as guilty, while Vossler, Ashe's faithful protector, was willing to offer her freedom in a bargain the Empire would surely not honor.

This is the man he'd trusted her care to more than once. The man he'd trusted to watch his back during battle.

The man he'd let dance with his princess at her wedding.

* * *

_'She is so beautiful,' Basch thinks, as Ashe bows to her husband formally after their first dance as husband and wife. She has already danced with her father and he watches as she looks around the crowd, glowing as she sees all the people she cares about around her. She is happy, and he supposes that is all he can ask for given that she can never be happy with him. _

_ Her eyes fall on him and she smiles warmly. She holds out her hand to him, inviting him to dance, but Basch does not dance. He has not the grace for a dancer as Ashe does. He waves his hand, laughs a little and smiles at her, trying to let her know, but she is insistent and walks to him._

_ "Humor me, Basch?" she asks, taking his hand in her own, "Just once dance?"_

_ He cannot look into her eyes and deny her, so he hangs his head and lets her pull him onto the dance floor. He is wearing the Dalmascan formal light armor for the reception, but his movement is still limited and he is uncomfortable. He feels the eyes of all the guests on them. Rasler watches them from the edge of the circle and gives Basch a smile. He wonders if the prince knows how he feels for the new bride._

_ The song changes. It is another slow one, but it has no romantic words to embarrass them – simply a slow piano and violin. Ashe keeps her hand in his and rests her other arm around his shoulders and he has no choice but to oblige. He gives her hand a squeeze and takes her waist and they dance slowly._

_ "I haven't spoken to you today." She says this as if he has not noticed. He made a decision the night prior not to speak to her until she had been married, lest his emotions betray him and he beg her to reconsider and run away with him._

_ He was too old for her. Too broken, too scarred, too common._

_ "I would assume you were avoiding me," he jests, "but I know you have been rather busy, what with getting married and all."_

_ She laughs, but her heart is not in it. "Forgive me. It will not happen again."_

_ Her confidence in her marriage both delights and depresses him. He wants her to be happy, yes, but the selfish man in him that knows no class or vows is desperate for her love. He does not look at her for a moment and only scans the crowd above her head._

_ "Basch? Are you alright?"_

_ He looks down at her and he knows his mask falls. The pain shows through – he feels it on his face and in his eyes, try as he might to force it back, deep down in him where it belongs. Knights do not cry, nor do they care so much for their charges. They serve. They remain objective to keep their judgment clear._

_ "I am fine, my lady," he says. "It is just that you are so beautiful today."_

_ She blushes furiously and looks away, but finds his eyes again seconds later. He smiles for her the best he can._

_ "Thank you," she says, "That means a lot to me, coming from you."_

_ "I always think you are beautiful."_

_ She swallows hard and he feels her toy with his ring against his shoulder. "Did Rasler say anything about the ring?"_

_ She shakes her head. "He trusts me. He trusts you too."_

_ 'He shouldn't,' Basch thinks. 'I love her too much to be trusted.'_

_ "I hope he is good to you, Ashe."_

_ "He will be. Will I still see you when you have time?"_

_ He releases her hand and brushes back her hair, ill-advised as it may be. Her broad smile fades and they fall into something more serious, something more real, and he wishes he hadn't spoken at all. He should have granted her the dance in silence. "When I can and when you can."_

_ "Rasler will not stop me from spending time with you. You said that maybe I could start running with you and Vossler in the mornings…"_

_ "We will be training harder soon," he tells her quietly, "you know why…"_

_ Her face falls and she looks away from her. He pulls her close as they sway in their place and the crowd mutters in approval of their display of affection. Could the knight and princess be any more adorable? They are like brother and sister, after all..._

_ "So I lose you either way."_

_ "No. No, my Princess," he says, resting a gloved hand on the back of her neck, wishing he could feel the soft skin there with his bare hands, "You've never lost me. Should you yell for my aid, I will come despite any order or task laid before me. My duty is to Dalmasca, and you are Dalmasca."_

_ The song ends, but Ashe holds on tightly longer than is proper. Basch slowly steps back, unlacing her from him, though it feels he is ripping away a part of himself, creating a wound that will take a lifetime to heal._

_ "Always my princess," he says quietly so only she can hear. He bows and brings her hand to his lips, kissing it gently._

_ Vossler materializes at their side, a grin the likes of which Basch has never seen on his face. "Is it my turn?" he asks. Ashe laughs, and this time Basch knows her heart is not in it, and nods. Basch releases her hand into Vossler's and watches as he spins her around and begins to waltz with her._

_ Basch fades into the background to watch. He envies Vossler, who still sees a child when he looks at her. If only it were that simple for him. If only he had never been placed as her guard all those years ago…_

_ But would he forego this feeling for contentment? Would that ignorance be better? Nay… he will bear the burden of knowing her, for knowing her and loving her have always been the same to him, and he will be a better, if sadder, man for it, always listening to her words echo in his dreams…_

_ I do love you, Basch. I do.

* * *

_

"A son of Dalmasca." Vossler's voice is low but clear from behind Basch. He would have turned, addressed the new traitor, and asked him how a son of Dalmasca could disgrace his rightful queen in such a manner. He wanted to ask Vossler when their friendship came to matter so little to him that he would not even come to Basch for counsel. He would have, and a scene would have been made, if Basch hadn't heard Fran begin to breath harder.

It professes into panting and then into an what looks like an anxiety attack and Basch realizes he can be of little help with his hands bound.

Vaan, who is closer to her, says her name in concern.

"Such heat," Fran cries. "The mist. It's burning!"

She falls to the ground, and Penelo and Vaan are at her side in an instant, though they are of little use as their hands are bound too. One of the soldiers steps toward them and Basch shoots Ashe a wary look. "Be careful," he tells her, for he knows something is about to happen.

"You, stand!" the soldier yells, pointing at Fran.

Basch is completely unprepared for what happens next. The guard is thrown back by a flash of energy emitted by the Viera. Fran, suddenly, has leapt from the ground and glides through the air. She takes out guard after guard in wild leaps and bounds. For safety, Basch nudges Ashe and guides her to the rest of the party.

"What's wrong with her?" Penelo asks, alarmed.

"I always knew Fran didn't take well to being tied up," Balthier replies, cool as ever. "I just never knew how much."

Balthier's hands are suddenly free. He turns to the others.

"How about you?"

"I like Fran's idea," Ashe says. "Let's get out of here."

In the confusion, Balthier removes Ashe's restraints and then Basch's as Ashe handles Vaan and Penelo. Vaan heads for the airship, no doubt to get to the cockpit before Balthier, but Vossler blocks his path with his raised sword.

"No farther!" he says. Basch knows that tone – Vossler's mind will not be changed, nor will he be moved easily. "Sky pirates! The future of Dalmasca will not be stolen."

Basch steps forward, hoping, though he knows it is in vain, that Vossler will see reason. He is not given the chance to speak.

"Why do this, Basch? The struggle is futile. You know where it leads!"

"I do know. All too well."

The fall of Landis. Walking away from his mother and his brother. Basch raises his sword, ready to take on Vossler for the sake of a free Dalmasca.

* * *

"Ashe, lets' go," Balthier calls after Vossler has fallen to his knees. She wants to follow him and leave this place as quickly as possible, but she cannot leave Basch or Vossler. Fran's breathing has grown faster and harder and she knows their time is limited. She wonders why Basch does not start pulling Vossler toward the ship. Why does he hesitiate?

Then she understands. He means to leave Vossler behind.

"All I have ever done - I have ever thought of Dalmasca first." Vossler's voice is defeated – it is that of a dying man. Ashe's chest tightens but there is no time for goodbyes or tears.

As always, there is no time to feel.

"I know you do. I would ne'er gainsay your loyalty." Those words, Ashe knows, come from Basch's heart, for he knows better than anyone that loyalty comes in many forms and colors.

"Look on what my haste has wrought. Did I act too quick?" he asks, looking up at Basch with pleading eyes. It is all Ashe can do not to run to Vossler and hold him in his suffering – her own life be damned. "Or was your return too late? I can serve her no more. You must take up my charge."

Basch nods in final agreement and turns, running to Ashe.

"We must leave – now!"

"But Vossler…!"

He wastes no time and grabs her around the waist, pulling her with him, and she has no choice but to comply. As she steps onto the tiny airship she turns to see Vossler kneeling, his head hung. She wants to call to him, to thank him for all he has done, but there is no time.

Never enough time.

* * *

Balthier has set a course for Rabanastre. It will take the night to reach the city, so Fran takes the controls and the party settles in to rest from the day. Vaan and Penelo curl up together on the bench behind the cockpit, Balthier stretches out across a pair of seats and they are all asleep within minutes, for the are not plagued by the look on Vossler's face as he fell to his knees.

Ashe and Basch, instead of leaving themselves open to the judgments of others, retreat to the bedroom in the back. It is empty, the two beds built into the wall bear only industrial sheets and blankets. The pillows are uninviting and sterile looking, but Ashe picks one up and holds it to her chest as she settles into the corner of one of the beds. She needs something to hold onto, and since Basch settles onto the opposite bed, she knows he will not let her borrow his shoulder.

They remain silent for a long time – minutes, hours, time slips by without measure. Basch remains still as stone, sitting on the edge of the mattress and leaning forward onto his knees, staring blankly at the fall. Ashe rests her head against the wall and looks down at the scratches on her knees, stroking the pillow, though she does not know why.

"I am sorry." Those seem to be the words Basch speaks the most. Ashe looks up from her trance and sees that he is looking at her, his eyes full of something she cannot identify. Perhaps it is nothing.

Her eyes are full of tears she does not notice until she tries to focus on him.

"For what?" Her voice is weak – she wonders if he can make out her words.

"For Vossler. I should have found a different way… captured him somehow –" He looks down from her, shaking his head.

"No." Ashe shakes her head. "You and I both know Vossler would have killed you."

"Perhaps I should have let him. It was he who has kept you safe all this time."

"You would have done the same."

His eyes meet hers quicker than she would have thought possible, and for a moment she forgets about Vossler and is simply thankful that whoever gave him that scar did not take his eye. She loves his eyes and the way he looks at her too much.

"You believe me now?"

"I think I've always believed you were innocent," she admits, though she does not know where the thought comes from. "I should have trust you and your loyalty to Dalmasca, but… everyone was telling me that you were guilty and that you had taken my father from me… and I wondered if I was somehow to blame."

They stare at each other. Basch is the first to move. He stands, slowly to keep from startling her, and moves to her bed and sits on it. He leaves enough room to keep her comfortable.

"You are far too young to bear these burdens, Ashe," he says. Her resolve begins to crumble and her tears spill over, rolling down her cheeks.

Basch cannot check the instinct to wipe them away. He brings his calloused hand to her face and wipes them away with his thumb and his hand feels good – so good – on her face. She raises hers to his and holds his palm to her cheek, taking in the warmth.

This is not the time or the place, she knows. She is still a princess and he is a disgraced knight, but there is no other time or place – there never has been. She looks up at him, her pain and fear showing through to someone else for the first time since he last left her because Basch is and will always be her only comfort.

"Ashe…" he whispers. She can see that he wants to keep his composure. He always does, but it is breaking. She can feel it in the shaking of his hand, the heightened pulse she can feel at his wrist. She raises her free hand to his face and moves it over his features – his nose first, his eyebrows and the scar, his cheeks and the stubble at his jaw and then his lips, which she knows she can never touch with more than her fingers.

"We'll get through this," she whispers. "We'll stop Vayne and restore Dalmasca. Vossler will be known as a hero and I will be queen. I will clear your name."

"Do not worry for my name, majesty," he says. She moves from the wall and slides closer to him, her legs under the arm he wraps around her. "Worry for your kingdom first."

It would be so easy to kiss him, to give in to what she feels for just a moment, but she knows he will never permit it, even if he felt the same way. Instead, she rests her head against his shoulder and turns her face against his neck, breathing him in. He holds her tight and runs his fingers through her hair, taking in the feeling of her against him, and they both relax under their grief and acceptance.

Basch closes his eyes and he is with his milkmaid bride in Landis.

Ashe closes hers and sees her _other _prince laughing in the morning light.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So I've been moving through this at an alarming rate and I'm enjoying every minute of it!

I really enjoyed writing this chapter. It's one of those ones best read to a Fray album (the second, not the first for me) or perhaps some Snow Patrol?

I am so grateful for the (few) reviews I've gotten! Thank you guys so much for taking the time to read each chapter (pimp me out to your other Basch/Ashe friends?)! I'm going to power through this to warm myself up for writing some other things, but I'm definitely going to finish this first. Promise!

Upcoming: A glimpse at their time back in Rabanastre and the trek to Bur-Omisace. Then the Paramina Rift and Archades. Then Pharos. That's three more chapters coming ASAP.


	11. Right to Left

**Right to Left**

"You even know how to use it?"

Ashe is startled by Vaan's question. She looks to him, startled. "I –"

"The Garif may know." Fran speaks so rarely that all turn to look at her. Ashe marvels at how gentle and kind her voice is. "The Garif people live by the old ways. Magicite lore is a part of their culture. They may hear it. The cry of the nethicite's power. Whispers of the stone's menace."

Ashe moves towards her, interested in the thought of going to the Garif. She has heard little about them, but the name is familiar to her. They are the people of the mask who hide their faces for life. "Dangerous though it be, what we need know is power. Should we declare Dalmasca free without means to defend our claim… the Empire would crush us. You must take me to meet with the Garif."

Ashe regrets her phrasing – it is not her place to make such demands. She is no queen, not now, but she was taught at a young age to be assertive through language, and old habits are not often discarded.

"They live beyond the Ozmone plains."

"Not exactly close," Balthier interjects. She turns to him.

"Compensation – is that what you want?"

"Straight to the point, aren't we?" Ashe narrows her eyes at Balthier. Does he care nothing for justice? Is the treasure all he holds dear? "I like that. Compensation. How about the ring?"

"This?" Ashe holds up her hand, stunned that he would ask for such a thing. A Dalmascan woman's rings are sacred. Her hands are usually reserved for wedding rings, but Ashe bears another one – one whose meaning and inscription she has kept secret for several years.

"No one's forcing you."

_We need wings,_ she thinks, _and a sky pirate can be easily bought. _

She sighs and sets down the Dawn shard, reluctant to hand over the ring despite her lack of options. Slowly she pulls it from her finger – Basch's ring, the promise he wrapped around her finger that she would always be _his_ princess.

"I'll give it back to you. As soon as I find something more valuable."

Unable to look at him, Ashe turns and walks from their room into the streets of the city. She stands there for a moment, shielding her eyes from the sunlight and enjoys the silence. She has barely been alone for weeks now, and though the city bustles around her she is alone for a blessed moment.

In the two days since Vossler's death Basch has become closer to her. Whether it be the void in both their hearts from his absence or their newly reborn trust she does not know, but she is grateful. The familiarity of his soothing voice brings her calm in the evenings, especially now that he makes sure he is the last to wish her a good night before she rests her head.

Basch emerges and approaches her. "Ma – Amalia?" She turns and smiles to him.

"Call me Amalia if you must call me anything."

They smile in their shared memory. He approaches her and raises his hand to her shoulder. She closes her eyes at the feeling of his palm against her skin.

"The ring is not important," he says, "I gave it to you –"

The rest of their group emerges, disrupting their conversation and Basch withdraws his touch quickly and places some distance between them. Suddenly it is two years prior and he cannot give her a final embrace before departing for Nabudis.

* * *

_The ariships are ready in the square. The men are gathered and Rasler raises the sword in the air and gives a cry of determination. Ashe watches him closely, whispering a silent prayer that they will be reunited on these same steps, but then nothing will have changed. Nothing._

_With the distraction of the crowd's thunderous cheering she chances a glance at Basch. He is staring at her intently, his eyes flickering over her body and she can nearly read his mind. He is memorizing her, taking her in as though this is the last time he will see her._

_And it becomes real. Everyone has spoken of Rasler's safety, Rasler's return. No one has talked of Basch or Vossler or the other men rushing into battle. They speak as if those lives mean less._

_Ranks break and Rasler bows to Raminas and Ashe one more time before striding off toward the ship. Ashe is shocked – he does not even take a moment to kiss her goodbye, for battle is clearly more important. He does not have to lead anyone yet – surely the people would forgive him for kissing their princess goodbye?_

_Basch, however, bounds up the few steps towards her. She looks up at him – was he always so imposing in his armor?—and feels the tears in her eyes. She takes a deep breath and holds them back, for this is not the place nor the time for weakness or, apparently, love._

"_I will guard your husband well," he says. "I will keep him from harm."_

_Can she admit she would rather have him return unharmed? That she dreads going to bed with Rasler each night and that she would keep Basch safe and throw her husband to the Empire first, though she loves Rasler everywhere but in their shared space?_

"_You stay safe," she tells him over the noise of the city. "I want you to come back."_

"_We've spoken –"_

"_I am not a child, Basch!" she yells at him. He must understand, even if she cannot say it. "You must return!"_

_He nods, and for a moment she thinks she sees his resolve shake, but he takes a deep breath in his armor and it is suddenly solid again. Vossler calls from him in the distance and Ashe reaches up to hug him, but Basch steps back and shakes his head._

"_I can't."_

_And he walks away, his strides long and powerful, his cape billowing behind him, leaving her praying for his return over her husbands', for there are so many things she should have said and made him understand._

"_Always your princess," she whispers, feeling the ring on her finger. It is then that she moves it from her right hand to her left, for she has realized Basch is just as important, if not more, than her Lord Rasler.

* * *

_

Vaan and Balthier depart to stock up weapons and armor for the upcoming mission. Fran and Penelo go to gather food and other necessities, leaving Ashe and Basch to gather everyone's belongings from the apartment the resistance bought to house guests. Ashe pulls Penelo's clothes down from the drying line and folds them carefully. The girl has done so much to ensure everyone's happiness – she cooks, cleans and smiles, keeping the morale high. Ashe hopes that when Dalmasca is restored she can somehow repay Penelo for her optimism.

And Ashe is sure now that Dalmasca can be restored. Basch has convinced her that it is within their power. She watches as he packs Vaan's things into a leather bag and considers her knight's certainty and loyalty. His fierce devotion and faith alone are enough, Ashe thinks, to restore her kingdom.

He is not watching her, which leaves her the chance to watch him without reservation. She admires him, and more directly, his body. Beneath the scars his arms are corded with muscle from lifting heavy swords and stringing tough bows. His shirt, stolen from some other soldier's closet, is ripped and opens under his protective vest, leaving a glimpse of his abs for her viewing. His shoulder's broad and strong and his calves, wrapped in the leather straps of his sandals, showed his muscles clearly, and while the sight was beautiful in theory for her, it makes her realize just how little they'd eaten. Her own body was thin from the journey and scarcity of food, but Basch was recovering from prison. He'd left his cage mere weeks ago emaciated and ill.

"I'm going to go out for a minute," she tells Basch. She picks up Balthier's sweater from the back of a chair and throws it over her shoulders to cover her clothing. The less chances she takes, the better off she will be. "I will be right back."

"I shall accompany you," he insists, fumbling with all the things he has in his arms, but she holds up her hand to halt his approach.

"No. Stay here and pack. I will return soon."

And with that she turns and takes her leave, slipping out the wooden door. She pulls Balthier's hat from his pocket – he hates the hat but he fears they will go somewhere cold soon, so he keeps it handy. She puts it on and tucks her hair up under the edges of the hat and disappears into the crowd.

* * *

Basch had tried to follow the instant he was able to free his hands of Vaan's few belongings, but he was too slow. She had disappeared into the streets of Rababanastre and could not be seen. He cursed himself and tried to find comfort in knowing she was a competent adult who could avoid the imperials, but it wasn't enough.

By the time she returned five minutes later he had worried himself into a frenzy. Everything was packed and ready, stacked up by the door. The adrenaline of his concern had enabled him to complete a task that would have otherwise taken a half an hour while she was gone. Ashe enters with a large paper bag in her arms, looking pleased with herself, and Basch sighs in relief.

"Majesty, please do not do that to me again," he says, approaching her. It is clear she is unharmed – indeed she looks almost happy – but letting her wander off on her own…

"I spent two years keeping myself hidden, Basch," she says, "Vossler helped, but I've learned to disguise myself."

She sets the bag down on the table and begins pulling things from it. The smell assaults him immediately and his shoulders droop in the sense of comfort that wraps its self around him.

"I believe you were a fan of the blueberry scones, yes?"

"You… have blueberry scones?"

"From the bakery up the street, yes."

Basch remembers Sunday breakfasts. Training exercises always began late on Sundays, so he normally woke early and had a quiet breakfast alone at the bakery. Since that was the time Ashe usually spent with her father, it was the perfect opportunity to seek some solitude.

Often it was the only meal he had alone during the week.

She withdrew a second bag as well poured the contents out onto a napkin. They were the tiny cookies Vossler had brought her every Friday evening as a child to congratulate her on making it through another week of lessons. She always shared with them.

"I cannot go into the liquor store," she said. "The owner once worked for the palace and I fear he would recognize me, so I thought you and I could honor Vossler's memory this way – with sweets."

Normally, Basch would laugh at such a display, tell her that her actions were cute and kind, and enjoy the gesture, but today as the evening sun flows in through the broken window, Basch finds himself at a loss. He is touched that she remembered his favorite snack and saddened by the sight of the miniature cookies on the cloth napkin that he believes she stole from Balthier. After a long moment he looks up at her.

"Do you want to share with the others?"

He knows her impish grin all too well.

"Not a chance."

* * *

_The visit with the Garif, _Ashe thinks, _was pleasant but unproductive_.

As they make the trek to Mount Bur-Omisace, Ashe considers what to do. Following Larsa, for now, seems like the best course of action, but what to do from the mountain? Will she find answers there or be lost once again?

_I must learn to use the Dawn Shard,_ she thinks once again. The sentiment repeats its self over and over in her mind and appears in her dreams when she sleeps, but she finds no answers – no path has been drawn to the knowledge she needs.

She resigns herself to simply seeing what happens next once every few hours, but slowly the anxieties creep up on her, sliding up her spine and into her mind once more.

Vaan, Penelo and Larsa laugh ahead of her, catching her attention. It would be easy to believe they had all grown up together, that they'd been friends since birth. It amazes Ashe that the orphans, who have long been taught to hate the Empire, are so accepting of the Emperor's son.

_The flexibilities of youth_, she thinks, and then remembers she is hardly older than Vaan. _When did I become so jaded? So old?_

_It is no wonder there seems to be so little distance between Basch and I. My heart is as old as his._

"An alliance between Dalmasca and the Empire?"

Ashe shakes her head a bit. "Reason tells me 'tis the only course. We must avoid war with the Empire at all cost. Yet I fear I could not bear the shame. Had I but the strength –"

"A shame perhaps for me and for you," Basch interrupts, "but for Dalmasca it is hope!"

"And you can just accept this, can you?" How could he? It was the Empire's actions through his brother that he was stripped of his name, honor, and humanity.

"After Vayne's ruse I had abandoned hope for honor… yet never did I forget my knightly vows. If I could protect but one person from war's horror… then I would bear any shame." Ashe looks up at him, knowing his words are both beautiful and heartfelt. Never had she seen a more noble night, and it seems as if his dishonor has made him all the more honorable, for he has not given up. "I would bear it proudly. I could not defend my home. What is shame to me?"

"My people hate the Empire. They will not accept this."

"There is hope."

They look to Vaan, Penelo and Larsa ahead and hear their laughter, sarcasm and the jesting tones in their voices. They seem so at ease and it reminds Ashe that there is no difference between herself and Larsa or any Imperial. They are all human.

"Hope for a future where we can join hands as brothers."

Ashe gives him a smile and nods. His optimism makes her envious. She has not suffered half of what he has and yet his spirit remains untried. His knightly vows, it seems, surpass any anger or hatred.

"How can you remain so hopeful?" she asks. Basch slides his hands into his pockets and shrugs, his posture relaxed and easy. It seems he is comfortable with their surroundings for the moment – she knows it won't last long.

"I know that there is still hope left for us. I see it in them," he nods towards Larsa, Penelo and Vaan, "I see it in you. You will be a good queen and Larsa, someday, will be a good and just emperor. You will both respect your people and your boundaries, unlike Vayne."

"But you have suffered so much. Your homeland was taken and your beloved Dalmasca was stolen from under you. They locked you away and took the life you knew. You've seen far more of man's cruelty than I – how do you keep your hope when I find it so difficult?"

"I have also seen the good in men. I've seen their loyalty and devotion in battle. I've watched men rush to save people they have never met. Look at Vossler – he was willing to take any route to restore Dalmasca. His loyalty was unwavering, though his methods were faulty. Can you not see the best in him?"

"I can," Ashe admitted. "I wonder if I will be a better ruler than Vayne. Will I lead my people to the same destruction?"

"Nay," Basch says. He wraps his arm around Ashe's shoulders so they can walk together and she leans into him, thankful the others are not looking. "You will keep Dalmasca safe. I am sure of it."

"And what of you? If we succeed, what will you do once I clear your name?"

He frowns down at her and she bites at her lip, wondering if there is any expression he could wear to make himself less handsome. "I had hoped you would restore me as a knight."

"What if I would rather have you as an advisor?"

He chuckles a bit and she smiles, wrapping her arm around him too. "You are the only part of politics I have ever cared for."

* * *

Okay. Again, not my favorite but a necessary evil. The next chapter, as planned, should be pretty epic.

Unfortunately, I've injured my right hand pretty badly so typing is a slow process right now. Never fear - I intend to continue ASAP, but today will likely not be a double update day. I wish it could be. I'm looking forward to the next part and cannot wait to write it.

Sorry this chapter was so (lame) lackluster, but I promise you the next one will be better!


	12. Failures

**Title:** Ever At Your Service [Part XI]  
**Fandom:** Final Fantasy XII  
**Characters:** Basch, Ashe  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** Basch always knew the Paramina Rift was dangerous, but he never imagined it would be like this.

It has been three days since they left Mount Bur-Omisace. Three days in the snow. Three days fighting vicious skeletons, white wolves and slavens. Three days of temperamental weather. Three days of looking over their shoulders, waiting for another elemental to emerge from the high stone walls of the pass.

The clouds clear as the sun begins to set over the rift, gifting the party with a sky painted in pastel pinks, oranges and purples. The snow under their feet and on the mountaintops glitters, taking away the menacing face of the rift.

Balthier walks ahead of the party, his gun loaded in hand. It is his turn to be the lookout and he is taking the job seriously as 'the leading man' should. Fran walks behind him, her dagger dangling from her fingers. She has not even donned a coat, as Viera are rarely bothered by extreme temperatures. Vaan and Penelo walk side by side, huddled together for warmth.

Ashe follows behind them, wrapping Basch's coat tighter around herself. He insisted hours ago that she take his, for it was heavier and he likes the cold anyway. She thinks he was lying, but says nothing as his sense of chivalry hangs in the balance. Besides, it smells like him and that alone is enough to warm her.

The path spills into deep canyon – a crack in Ivalice. Balthier, silent, leads them onto a rocky bridge bathed in sunlight and snow. They do not discuss the stability of the stone bridge, for it only invites doubt that they cannot afford. He walks onto it surely with Fran close behind. Vaan and Penelo follow, holding each other a bit tighter, and Ashe walks on, looking straight ahead, unwilling to look down into the chasm and lose her nerve.

The bridge offers passage at the most narrow place in the canyon and its surface is finished but rough, proving that it is indeed manmade which offers Ashe little comfort. As they walk she listens to their footfalls, keeping her attention on the ones behind her – Basch's. He has the grace of a feline, but he is human still. At his request, her quiver is secured across her body and her bow remains in her hand, however loosely gripped in her exhaustion. She wonders idly how the Sword of Kings will feel in her hands if they ever reach the Stilshrine of Miriam.

It isn't until she reaches the safety of the other side that she realizes he stopped halfway across the bridge. She looks back and sees him staring off into the distance. She follows his eyes to the fiery golden sun setting beyond the mountains, leaving the sky painted in sherbet colors. Ashe looks back to him – to the pensive and appreciative look of a man who has had too many sunsets stolen from him, to the eyes of one who believes something larger than himself and the world he lives in. She stares at him with the same lost awe with which he stares at the sunset, her lips parting in reverence at his very existence.

And then she sees it rising behind him.

The Garuda-Egi flies silent like death on flame wings. Its talons, razor sharp, twitch in expectation of its next meal as it looks at Basch, its reptilian neck outstretched, and it emits a wail of victory, for its prey is vulnerable and unaware.

"Basch!" Ashe's voice is shrill and terrified. It echoes through the canyon. Her feet move of their own accord and she runs towards him as the Garuda-Egi gives a mighty flap of his wings, and Basch looks up, a fear in her eyes the likes of which Ashe has never seen. Her hand moves over her shoulder and grasps an arrow and she slides onto the bridge and to a halt as she pulls the bow faster than she ever has, though she feels it slowly, as though she is underwater.

Her arrow flies and pierces the thin flesh of the beast's wing, accomplishing nothing but turning its attention to her. She rushes forward, not registering that Basch can make it across the bridge, which now seems long – so long – and to safety.

She cannot risk letting him try.

The Garuda-Egi has threatened her knight and she must protect him as he has always protected her.

Basch cannot die, for she still has to prove he has something to live for.

She strings another arrow and the avoin dives at her, its talons outstretched. She is not as big as the other human, no, but she will make a fine snack.

Ashe lets another arrow go and this time it hits its mark – only it is too late. The poisoned missile pierces the creature's fleshy neck as its claws reach Ashe, piercing her shoulder, scratching her chest and penetrating her abdomen as she struggles. She screams and is knocked off of her feet as the mountain air fails the Garuda-Egi and its wings falter. It cannot let go of Ashe, for it will have vengeance for its pain and holds to her as it falls the first few feet. It tries to gain altitude, lifting Ashe several feet off of the bridge, until several gunshots ring out and echo through the grey chasm. The tension in its muscles release as it falls from the sky and Ashe slips from the bridge.

The bow falls first, then the arrows from the quiver as she grabs for the jagged rocks that make the side of the bridge. She is warm for only a moment as her blood soaks her clothes and the inside of Basch's coat, then suddenly she is cold – it is flowing out too fast. She grabs at a protruding rock in the last layer of the stacked stones that make the bridge – the last layer before the fall below – and she cannot scream, for there is no air in her lungs.

It takes only seconds for a mammoth, warm hand to find her wrist. She cannot see and can barely hear for the blood rushing through her head, moving quicker now to find escape through her wounds. From somewhere there is a scream, the sound of metal on stone, the sliding of a sword from rock, a wooden bow breaking somewhere below.

Her hand is ripped from the rock and she finds the air to scream, but the sound is weak, so weak. She is falling in reverse, so odd, and then those hands are all over her –different sizes now, and the sword hits the rocks below, clanging thrice. Basch's sword? His sword of the Order of Knights? She must retrieve it for him…

Balthier's voice is the loudest… calling for Penelo… screaming for Ashe to open her eyes for him as Basch please with her, whispering 'no, no, no.' Her breaths come fast and she cannot make them even. The snow is cold, but how did she wind up wrapped in it?

* * *

Vaan cries that they should pull her to the base where they can see her wounds, to be careful moving her, lest any of them fall, but Basch does not care. He scoops Ashe up into his arms, holding her tight to his chest, her arms at odd angles. Balthier runs ahead and rips open one of their packs, letting the bottles spill into the bright snow, and pushes them around to find the right one.

"Where are the potions?" His voice is booming now, not suave or polished in anyway, rough in fear. Penelo cries that they are all gone and Basch is barely aware of Balthier grabbing her and pushing her roughly toward where he has fallen, clutching the princess in the snow.

_How did I not hear it?_ He asks himself over and over as a knight would. 'Learn from your mistakes,' he'd been taught, but if this mistake lead Ashe to her end, he would make no more mistakes.

There would be no point.

"Ashe?" He shakes her, but she is unconscious now, her lips starting to blush blue and something he has not felt in so long – tears – flow from his eyes where they freeze in his eyelashes and on his cheeks. "Ashe, please…" He begs her. Knights do not beg, do they?

It matters not. He did not deserve the sword if he could let this happen.

"Heal her!" Balthier assumes command. Basch rips his coat open across Ashe's chest and gives a strangled cry at the sight of her body. The coat was ripped through – the beast's talons shredded her clothes and skin. Her shoulder is torn on the front and back – the blood covers her so thoroughly that he cannot see where that wound ends and the other at her chest begins. It starts at the base of her ribcage directly above her naval and extends between her breasts to her clavicle. The deepest gash stretches from her left hip to the right side of her waist.

Basch looks to Penelo pleadingly, for he can barely see the rise and fall of her chest now – his princess is slipping from his arms to a place he cannot follow.

She is crying – the girl has never faced anything like this and Balthier's force has frightened her, but he knows she can. She has been using magic all day to keep them warm, but surely she has enough left in her, though the rest of them lack the skills… surely she can…

Ashe's breaths stop and Basch notices right away, and he feels his heart stops with them. She is gone, dead in his arms and as good as at his hand. His eyes widen and become cold as he stares at her closed eyes, her damp nose and the blood tricking from the corner of her mouth, instantly viscous in the cold.

Her chest rises in a gasp and he breathes again, and looks up at Penelo and pleads.

"Penelo," he croaks, "Penelo, please."

"You can do it, Penelo."

She raises her shaking hands and places them on either side of Ashe's ribs and closes her eyes, letting another sob escape her lips as the warm blood rushes over her fingers. Basch closes his eyes tightly, holding Ashe steady and tight, hoping that somehow she can feel him holding her – that his desperation and need for her flows from his body into her heart and she knows, somewhere, that he cannot continue without her, not just in their quest to restore Dalmasca, but in his quest to wake each morning and find the will to live.

Ashe twitches as Penelo heals her, the magic making her compromised body convulse. Basch has watched mangled men be healed with magic before – watched their flesh knit its self together seemingly of its own accord – and he has performed the procedure on himself and Vossler before, but this… this requires skill he does not have, and he cannot watch. Watching Vossler's skin heal in such a grotesque, accelerated manner was one thing, but Ashe's smooth, alabaster flesh… he cannot stomach the thought.

Knights are not well educated, for they come in abundance and are expendable.

It takes an eternity, it seems. She twitches again, once more, and he clutches her as tightly as he can. No force can pry her from him, not even death.

He dares it.

Finally, Penelo falls back, gasping and clutching her chest, into Vaan's arms. She catches sight of her own hands and breaks down. Vaan clutches her to him, enveloping her, and rocks her from side to side as one would a child, cradling her head to his chest.

Ashe's breathing is steady and deep now, but as Balthier wipes her blood away with a snow-dampened handkerchief, he sees that the wounds are not completely healed. A thin layer of translucent, new skin covers the marks that are only partially closed. He looks to the pirate for an explanation, for he has never seen anything like this.

"Penelo could not heal her completely," he says, worriedly. He kneels on Ashe's other side and cleans the blood away. "She is regenerating. Penelo closed the wounds and set the process in motion. It is all she has."

"Can we not… do more?"

"We haven't the skills, Basch. You know that."

He sees Fran running down the incline ahead – he had not noticed her absence. "There is a cave ahead," she tells them. "We should take her there."

Balthier holds his arms out for Ashe, for his are untried and steady, but Basch will not have it. He rises with the princess against him, though his stunned and weary muscles and bones protest, and cradles her himself, trying to convince himself that it is her warmth he feels and not fear coursing through his body.

"I've got her," he says, moving past Balthier to follow Fran. He hears Vaan consoling Penelo, telling her that she did a wonderful job, but Basch cannot look at her.

Not until he knows Ashe will be okay.

* * *

The cave is small, which is a blessing since a single large fire is all they can manage. Basch wraps Ashe in her coat and his shirt and vest, making sure that each inch of her body is covered. He removes her boots himself and opts not to lay a blanket on the cold floor to shield himself from the frozen stone beneath him. Instead, he wraps it around himself and then Ashe to lend her the heat of his body.

It seems that is all he is good for.

Penelo sits at the mouth of the cave, exhausted and devastated that she could not heal Ashe completely. Vaan consoles her. Balthier cooks two rabbits. Fran gathers dry wood to keep the fire going through the night. Basch keeps his food and Ashe's portion at his side, knowing Ashe will be hungry when she wakes – he tells himself she will wake – and he will need to make sure she is properly cared for.

Was that not what Vossler told him his job was?

_"I warn you – if any harm should befall her, we shall make your death look like an accident."_

Vossler would have never let this happen.

Balthier and Vaan both offer to watch her, to give Basch a break to step outside and clear her head, but he simply looks at them and they leave him alone after a few tries. Fran offers to let him sleep, and though he trusts them all, it was his failure that got them all here.

It was always _his _failures.

_His_ failure to recognize the trap.

_His _failure to protect Rasler.

_His _failure to remain with his family.

_His _failure to sound the alarm when Archadia invaded Landis.

He shakes his head to clear it, and the fresh tears melt the frozen ones.

The others settle into their places and drift off, knowing there is no need to arrange a watch order this night. Basch will be awake and sharper than ever.

He holds her tight well into the night, staring out the mouth of the cave into the mountains. This place is shielded well from the wind, but it has begun to snow again and Basch knows the blizzard is coming.

* * *

Ashe stirs closer to morning than sunset. Basch's breath catches in his throat as he looks down at her, tightening his arms around her once more. His hair – desperately in need of a wash – falls against his face and into his eyes as he sees her eyes flutter open. His face breaks into a grin, stretching muscles he has not used for many hours, and he feels like a sculpture that is cracking in the cold.

"Hey," he says kindly, raising one hand to her face to brush away her soft hair from her face. "Just rest."

"Are you… are you okay? I saw it come up behind you," she breathes.

"I'm fine," he assures her. "It didn't get me."

"Good." A small smile reaches her lips and she closes her eyes, tucking her face against his shoulder. His stony façade crumbles and his chest heaves in a strangled sob, shocking her more awake than before. "Basch?"

"I'm fine," he whispers, leaning over her, burying his face against her blanketed shoulder. "I am sorry."

She struggles feebly with the cocoon he has encased her in, but manages to break it and free her hand. He feels her palm slide up over his bicep, onto his bare back and up his neck, into his hair. He shivers, but not from the cold.

"You've nothing to be sorry for," she assures him, clutching him to her with what little strength she has.

"I should have heard it," he says, "I cannot understand why I did not... why I did not hear it…"

"You were looking at the sunset," she whispers to him, conscious now of their sleeping companions. "Anyone would have done the same. It was beautiful."

His silent tears slide down the blanket onto her exposed neck and she grips at his hair a bit, needing him to feel her there, to feel that she is alive and well.

"You should have let it take me," he says, his voice muffled by the fabric. Ashe pushes the blanket back and sits up what little bit she can. The coat slides off of her and she sees his shirt and vest wrapped around her bare legs. _The metal on my boots would be cold,_ she thinks, _he wanted to keep me warm…_

"I couldn't do that," she tells him, "Ever."

"It dove for you," he says, but she remembers it too clearly. "You distracted it."

"And we both escaped with our lives," she reminds him, but he only clutches her tighter, turning his face now to her neck as though seeking out her pulse to affirm her words. "It is not your fault my first shot missed."

"I taught you to use a bow."

"And so I am rusty. You will have to give me remedial lessons when we return to Rabanastre."

He remembers all too well their first lessons in her fifteenth year – the feeling of her pressing against him, his hands covering hers, teaching her how to defend herself with her own strength – the memory years later makes him guilty still.

"I thought I'd lost you," he whispers, his words barely intelligible.

"I thought I was going to lose you."

He pulls back and looks at her, marveling at the color that has returned to her face. Her lips are pink again, her eyes relatively clear, though tired. He runs his fingers through her soft hair again, simply for the sake of doing it, and tries to find a smile for her. He barely succeeds.

"You should sleep," he says.

"Only if you do too." He gives her an incredulous look and she sighs. "At least lay down with me?"

That he can agree to. Slowly he rearranges the blankets laying the large one out on the ground. She slides from his lap onto it and he covers her legs with his clothes again. She takes up the coat and covers herself with it, then holds it up for Basch.

"I will be fine," he tells her.

It is clear she does not want to argue. "It's an order."

He must acquiesce. Basch slides under it and feels her wrap her arms around him, her hands moving over his back in consolation.

"Thank you for saving me today," she whispers, fading back into her dreams, "my valiant knight."

"Thank you for saving me," he replies, wrapping his arms around her in turn and pressing a chaste kiss to the top of her head, "my brave princess."

* * *

Morning comes far too soon for Basch, who would rather stay wrapped in the coat with Ashe. At least with her against him he knows she is safe. The others begin to stir, but it isn't until Balthier awakens that there is any real noise.

He sits up and sneers and the snow as though he could intimidate the weather into submission.

"This rift may claim us yet," he says before getting to his feet. Fran is sitting close to the mouth of the cave, using what little light the sky gives them to read the map.

"A few hours more and we would be at the Stilshrine of Miriam," she says, running her nail over the paper. Ashe sits up a bit, startling Basch. He hadn't felt her awaken.

"Then let us leave," she says, looking at them. Penelo's grin is broad and for a moment Basch is afraid she will start crying again. He should have done more to console her, for it was not her fault that Ashe got hurt or that she was too weak from the elements to heal the princess completely. He offers her an apologetic smile and she nods to him in understanding. He hopes it is enough.

Ashe pulls herself up and clears the coat from her body, inspecting the places where her wounds were. She has healed perfectly – there is not a mark to testify that the event ever happened, save for the look of complete concern on Basch's face.

"I'm alright, Basch," she tells him quietly, "Really."

"I know," he says, shaking out the other coat. It is slightly damp from where Penelo tried to get the blood out of it, and until it dries completely he will be the one wearing it.

Ashe holds his vest and shirt out to him, eyeing his bare chest and giving him a half-smile. "That's quite a collection of scars you have."

Basch looks down, though he knows the shape and story of each one. "I suppose it is."

He takes his clothes and pulls them on, and Ashe leans over to secure the buckles on his vest herself. He watches as her small, lithe hands tighten them, and he is touched once again by her concern for him.

But the others are awake now and he cannot speak on it. He simply thanks her and hands her the napkin of cold rabbit meat and insists she eat, taking not a bite for himself.

"Your body suffered quite a trauma," he says, "and you will tire quickly if you do not eat."

"I will tire quickly anyway," she says, but complies and eats. Basch stands and pulls on his weapon belt, armguard and leg armor, preparing for the day. He leans back against the cave wall as Balthier and Fran pack up their belongings, and Vaan and Penelo go to gather clean snow for water.

Ashe pulls her discarded clothing towards her and begins to pull it on. Basch cannot help watching as she pulls her stockings on, drawing them over her feet, onto her calves and to her thighs, securing them in place with her protective gear and knife belt. She repeats the process on the other side and he cannot look away. It has been a long time since he has seen such a sight, and he marvels even more knowing that he nearly lost her.

No, he will never take Ashe for granted again.

He helps her up and notices that she stumbles a bit, her balance off. "I don't suppose you would let me carry you on my back like I did when you were young."

Ashe gives him a look that clearly says no, but she does let him help her put her coat on. "If I weren't walking independently, who would save you if another Garuda decided to make you his dinner?"

Basch glares at her a bit as he buttons the coat around her. "I would have been fine."

"It would have killed you."

He cannot exactly deny it. He simply ensures that Ashe is properly protected and gathers their belongings up. He carries his own and hers, though she protests, and when they leave the cave and start the final part of their journey to the Stilshrine of Miriam, they stay close at each others' sides.

* * *

**Author's Note: I really, really enjoyed writing this one - far more than the last one, and I hope that you enjoy reading it!**


	13. We shall see

"**We shall see."**

"Yet without power," Gabranth says to Ashe, and the muscles all over Basch's body tense, ready to spring at his brother to protect his princess, "what future can you claim? What good a kingdom you cannot defend."

Basch steps forward. The Pharos lighthouse has not been kind to them – they all bear weeping cuts, bruises, and Balthier bears worse on his right arm from an unfortunate account with a Crusader – but the least kind of all the monsters Basch has seen here is his brother.

"Then I will defend queen and kingdom both!" With the light from the Sun-cryst behind him he is able to see Gabranth better. It is difficult to imagine Noah beneath that armor when all Basch can remember is a happy teenage boy racing his brother to the lake…

"Hah! Defend? You? You who failed Landis and Dalmasca? What can shame hope to keep safe?" Gabranth's words cut for deep, for Basch's failures haunt his nightmares constantly. Images of Rasler with the arrow protruding from his chest, of Gabranth standing over him, telling him of the impending downfall of Dalmasca, of Ashe laying in the snow, her blood tinting it red…

Of the Archadians swarming Ronsenburg as they took Landis' capitol. He cringes as Gabranth goes on, trying to shake the thought.

"Your shield is shattered! Your oaths poison to those you would protect!"

Gabranth takes a blade in each hand and raises them, poised to attack. Basch raises his sword and points the tip at his brother, aware of Ashe behind him, clutching her Treaty-Blade.

"Stay back," he says to her, hoping the others will heed as well. "This is between myself and Gabranth."

"He killed my father," she reminds him, as though he needs it, and Basch knows she has no intention of staying behind him. He feels her step up to his side and they are united in their hatred of Gabranth. He wonders if she can handle the battle, for he knows she is still shaken by the appearance of Rasler's ghost, the sound of the Occuria speaking through him.

But he is proud of Ashe and her decision to forsake the stone and warmed by her desire to stay at his side.

If only he'd been so strong in the past.

He raises his sword to his brother – Ashe does the same – and they rush forward to take on the Judge.

* * *

_Seventeen year old Basch stands atop a watch tower over the gates of Ronsenburg, Landis. He is lonely tonight – normally he is placed with his brother at the front gate, but Noah was due for a night off, so Basch volunteered to handle the watch alone._

_It didn't much matter, he felt, as the gates were always quiet after mid-afternoon. Travelers did not come to Ronsenburg often. Landis is a small land and Ronsenburg is a small town, though it was the capitol. Basch leans against the battlement wall and looks down at the tall, lush grass below, watching it ripple as the wind came in from the East._

_He paces for a while, then watches the grass, then paces until past midnight. He looks up to the __moon and stars and realizes his watch is only half over and groans. At least with Noah he has someone to tell jokes with._

_This was a job for foot soldiers, he thought, not knights, and certainly not one of the fon Ronsenburg boys who were the best Ronsenburg had seen in years. They are the pride of the village – descendants of the city's founders and the closest to royalty the democratic nation has._

"_Basch,"comes a hiss from behind and below. He jumps and looks down the wall to see Karla. He grins at her and waves, for it is impossible for Basch not to grin for Karla. He has known her his whole seventeen years and, he is sure in his young mind, loved her even longer._

"_What are you doing out here so late? It may not be safe." The declaration of possible danger makes him feel important, like he is somehow protecting her, and that is his job after all._

"_I wanted to see you!" Her words make Basch feel a bit lighter. She's barely seemed to notice him lately._

_It is against every rule he knows, but he does it anyway because he wants nothing more than to see her. He presses a finger to his lips to tell her to keep quiet, then points to the ladder used to reach the top of the wall. She nods, and he watches as she climbs up to reach him, her little pink dress moving around her in the wind. Basch meets her at the top and helps her over, grinning even more when she stumbles into his arms._

"_Oops," she giggles. He keeps his arms around her, swaying with her on the spot as though they were dancing. She laughs even more when he takes her hand and spins her around before pulling her back, closer than before. Basch is young and cares for little more than how close he can get to Karla now that she is before him._

"_Won't you be in trouble if they see me?"_

"_Well then we should make sure they don't see you," he says. Together, they kneel down, enclosed by the upper walls of the battlement, and sit down on the walk. Basch wraps his arm around her, suddenly grateful that his brother took the evening off. _

"_Aren't you supposed to be watching?"_

"_What is there to watch?" he asks and gestures toward the empty fields that lay outside Ronsenburg. "It is the middle of the night. No one is coming."_

"_Well, in that case…" She grins and captures Basch's lips in a kiss, gripping at his shirt and pulling him even closer, and he can't help himself. The night air gets to them both._

_It isn't until the Archadians fire upon the city that he is aware of them. It isn't until they're ramming the gate that he can yell, and when he reaches the alarm bells twenty feet away, it is too late. They have the town. They have Landis and his pride.

* * *

_

Gabranth steps back from the battle as it reaches a natural pause, though he never leaves his battle stance. Basch glances to Ashe at his left – she is gripping her sword and panting from exertion. She grits her teeth and he can see the anger is still fresh in her eyes. The loss of her family is new again after seeing Rasler's face and the man she can blame stands before her. Should Gabranth alter and she have a chance, he is certain his brother will meet his death. Basch hears Balthier at his side, stepping in for Vaan, who took a hard blow to his back. Basch looks back to Noah, wishing he could see his twin's face, for it is so unlike his own in many ways.

Basch wants his king's murderer dead, but he does not want to kill his brother.

Once again, he is trapped.

"Hear me, Basch!" Gabranth cries. "Do not think killing the kingslayer will win you back your honor! When you abandoned home and kin, your name was forever stained with blood."

Basch yells, rushes forward, and engages Gabranth once more.

* * *

"_It was your fault?" Basch's mother asks, though she already knew the answer. Noah stands behind her, disgusted, sneering at his brother. The twins had been close, but Noah had always had a harsh edge that Basch did not. His sense of honor had been higher, his definition of the word different._

"_Yes, mother. I did not see them in time."_

"_There is nothing around the city!" she cries. Basch cringes at his mother's disappointment and looks away from her. He cannot look to his brother for comfort either. He can hear yelling from the outside, the town's people crying and screaming at the imperials, though it will do no good. "There is nothing for them to hide behind."_

"_I am sorry." He cannot admit why he did not see them coming. He cannot say it. He is too ashamed._

_Their mother coughs, and Noah rushes forward, handing her a handkerchief. When she calms and pulls it away, Basch catches a glimpse of the blood. The day has been too much, and now he is reminded that his mother is dying. He wishes he could disappear._

"_What shall we do?" Noah asks. _

"_Leave. Go home."_

_Home. For their mother that is Archades. It has always been Archades. Basch looks out the nearby window to see the chaos in the streets. He sees imperials giving orders to the free townspeople – sees them striking down those who would oppose them – and Basch knows he cannot go to Archadia. He cannot venture into the homeland of these monsters._

"_Perhaps further south," he suggests, looking to his brother pleadingly. Surely Noah would understand, for he too is a knight of Landis. "Perhaps to Rozarria in the west?"_

"_We will go home," his mother declares. Noah glares at his brother and turns away, preparing to pack. Basch follows him._

"_How can you agree to go there?" Basch does not understand. "Do you not see what they are doing?"_

"_Archadia is stronger than any other kingdom," he says. "Why not fight for them? Why not join them?"_

"_You would be one of them?" Basch points out the window to the soldiers. "You would do this to another nation?"_

"_Better to conquer than be conquered."_

_Basch looks to his mother who stares at him with such disdain that it chills him to the bone. "How could you let this happen?"_

"_It was a mistake," he repeats._

"_A mistake that has cost you your legacy. Your homeland."_

"_I am sorry, mother."_

"_If you do not wish to come to Arcadia then go on your own way. Noah can care for me far better than you can."_

_Basch is stunned at his mother's harsh words. She had never been a warm woman – she'd always blamed their father for leaving her in Landis, away from her home, and Basch suspected she never forgave her sons for their unwillingness to leave their homeland for hers – but she'd never spoken to him this way. He looks over his shoulder to Noah, his brother and best friend, and is met only with his turned back._

"_You would have me leave, brother?"_

_Noah turns and looks upon Basch. "You have failed Landis as I have – had you not been alone, Ronsenburg would not have been invaded. I am to blame as you are, but you shall bear the shame, not I. Go where you choose."_

_Basch thinks for a long moment, watching his brother gather their mother's clothing. Watching Noah should have been like watching himself in a mirror, but it is not. Noah's movements are shorter, more precise than his own, and Basch does not think he could ever look on anyone with such distain, especially his brother. He could never imitate the hardness in Noah's eyes._

"_I cannot go with you."_

"_Do as you will."_

_Basch looks to his mother. "Shall I see you again?" His throat is tight – he has never considered being separated from his family at such a young age – seventeen is too young, far too young when he'd always thought his brother would be by his side._

"_Only if you wish to shame me."_

_Basch feels his face burn red – his face, yet untouched by age, war and love, a face yet untried by life. "As you wish," he says. He bows to his mother and turns, leaving the only home he's ever known without bothering to gather his belongings. He moves to the stable, takes the reins of his Chocobo, and slips from Ronsenburg, hoping all the while that some imperial will see him and sentence him to death._

_When he survives, Basch decides to ride south to Dalmasca, a land he has never seen.

* * *

_

Gabranth steps back, beaten for the moment. Basch can hear his gasping for air and knows his brother cannot take much more. If they were to go another round, he would surely fall.

"So you too would leave your debts unpaid?"

"Enough of this!" Basch starts at the sound of a new voice, and from the corner of his eye he sees Balthier flinch. "I can bear no more."

Gabranth turns as Dr. Cid enters the room. "You disappoint me, Gabranth. He trusted you."

When Cid shoves Gabranth, Basch has to force himself to not attack the man himself – Balthier's father or not. Only he can shove Noah…

But this is not Noah. The Noah that Basch grew up with is either dead or buried deep within the Judge Magister before him, and he knows he will likely never look upon his brother again.

"When you bared steel against the Princess, you foreswore your obligations to your emperor!" Cid speaks to Gabranth without looking at him. "You shame yourself and make mockery of Lord Larsa's trust. You are unfit to serve him as sword or shield. And so I release you from that service. Your presence is neither required nor welcome."

Cid steps forward, but Basch keeps his attention on Gabranth. He sees the judge's hands start shaking around the hilt of his sword, and when he raises his sword to strike Cid in the back Basch cries out.

"Gabranth!" The word – his mother's maiden name, for Noah had long forsaken their father – still feels strange in Basch's mouth.

Where Cid had been Venat appears, and Gabranth's sword strikes through the Occurian, making it disappear. Cid appears to Gabranth's left, and with a burst of energy, the scientists sends him soaring through the air and into a stone pillar. Basch watches in horror as his brother crumples to the ground, his head hung, seemingly dead at the base of the column. He cringes and looks away as Balthier begins to speak…

* * *

The back of the Strahl is a welcome sight after such a harrowing experience. Basch sits quietly on the bench and considers the day. Reddas' sacrifice. Venat's control of Dr. Cid. The death of the good doctor. The destruction of the Sun-cryst. Gabranth's slander. The sight of his brother laying defeated, maybe dead at the base of the column, but there'd been no time to go check, no time to see if he could be saved.

He could not save Noah and Ashe, and he'd made his choice.

Basch looks into the cockpit and watches as Penelo approaches Balthier and lays a hand on his shoulder. The unflappable sky pirate jumps and looks at her, his eyes a bit wider and redder than usual.

"Penelo, you startled me. I see you've mastered the art of walking silently."

She does not chuckle. Good natured Penelo cannot be deterred. "Are you alright, Balthier?" Basch had wanted to ask the same question, but it only invited an awkward moment between the two men. Besides, he would not forego watching Penelo make such a touching display.

"I am fine. Just a few scratches. I may be needing your able hands to stitch –"

"That isn't what I meant."

Balthier sighs and looks from her to the sky ahead. "Yes. I know."

Penelo slides into Fran's seat – the Viera has gone to wash up – and looks at Balthier kindly. "I'm sorry. I know how hard it is… losing a parent."

"And you shouldn't," Balthier says. Basch sees him reach over to her and take her small hand in his own. "Thank you for your concern, Penelo."

They fall silent, and Basch watches them for a long time. She does not let go of his hand.

As Fran walks back through, Basch stands. "Where is Lady Ashe?"

"She rests in the bedroom, though she does not sleep."

He nods, and they pass each other. Basch slips into the galley and searches the cabinets until he finds tea, then proceeds to make two cups. He fixes Ashe's just the way she likes it – cream and two teaspoons of sugar – and carries them to the bedroom. He knocks with his elbow and listens as Ashe shuffles around inside before opening the door. Her eyes are redder than Balthier's and she is wrapped up in one of the blankets.

"Forgive me for disturbing you," Basch says, "but I thought you might like some tea."

She smiles, thanks him hoarsely, and takes her cup from his hand. Basch stands in the doorway, unsure of what to do, until she looks back at him. "Are you coming in?"

"Do you seek solitude?"

She shakes her head and gestures to the spare bed, which he sits on after closing the door. She holds her tea carefully, as her hands are still shaking.

"Are you well?"

"Shaken," she admits, "though I am sure you are far more disturbed by the day's events."

"My brother chose his path. I cannot change what he has done."

"He killed my father and took your good name," she says. Basch drinks his tea, wishing it were something stronger, and cringes as it burns his tired throat.

"I was far more concerned with him hurting you."

"Do you think he escaped?"

Basch looks out the window and sees only the sea stretching far into the distance to meet the sky. "I do not know. I do not see how he could have."

Ashe falls silent for a long moment. Her body aches and she imagines her muscles separating from the very bones they have been charged to move, but move she does. She sets her cup down on the table under the window and moves over to where Basch sits. She doesn't give him space – she sits right beside him and stares at him.

"You cannot possibly be alright," she says. Basch makes no motion to argue. He tries to remain calm, but it becomes more and more difficult as he attempts to wrap his mind around his brother's apparent death. He wants to forget that he saw Noah again, just forget the entire day, but it is impossible with Ashe beside him, her presence and comforting hand between his shoulders reminding him that something is wrong, very wrong.

"I will be," he assures her. "I am just a bit shaken, like you."

"I had seen Rasler's ghost before."

The confession startles Basch a bit and he looks down at her. "When?"

"The first time was at Raithwall's tomb. I saw him again with the Garif, and in my dreams. I thought it was actually him."

He frowns at her, confused. "You could have told me."

"How am I supposed to talk about him with you?" Basch must admit that it would be a difficult topic, but he'd assumed she would come to him with anything that bothered her. He looks away from her again. It is clear she doesn't trust him and that cuts him deep.

In how many ways has he failed her?

"You can tell me anything," he assures her, knowing she will not listen. "You should know that by now."

"We have been lying to ourselves, Basch. I see that now."

"I do not understand."

Ashe sighs and stands, moving over to the window. She watches the water move beneath them. "Do you remember the night before I married Rasler?"

"How could I forget."

"You told me that I cloud your judgment. That you cared for me too much – that it was unhealthy and unacceptable."

"I remember."

"And I told you that I loved you."

Basch can see her shoulders moving faster as she breathes harder. These are things she has been waiting to say, but he does not know how to reply. The day has been trying and he is sure her patience wears thin. What can he say that will not offend her?

"I recall."

"You didn't reply in kind."

"I was… uncertain."

"How could I discuss my husband with you when you know I loved you upon my marriage?"

"I am not prying for information, majesty," Basch says, getting to his feet. "I only wanted you to know that you can come to me with anything."

"I loved him." Her voice shakes, but Basch dares not approach her, despite his need to comfort her and desire for comfort _from _her. There is a part of him that still refuses to believe they escaped Pharos at all. "I did, or at least I tried to. We had been friends for a long time… growing up in such close nations, but…" She trails off.

"Princess?"

"But I always wondered. I always wondered how things would have been different if you had loved me too."

"I did love you." The words escape before Basch can stop them, and he regrets them as soon as they are in the ether. He cannot take them back. He cannot uncomplicated what he has complicated, but if he is honest with himself, he knows things have been complicated since that night.

The world had changed around them, but they had remained the same even when they did not know it.

"I watch you," she whispers, her voice hoarse. "When you fight, when you gather firewood, when you sharpen our weapons… I did it not knowing why, but then I realized that I am terrified of losing you again. I almost did."

"I nearly lost you as well." Simply thinking of Ashe lying limp in his arms is enough to turn his bones cold.

"I need to know now, Basch. Do you still care for me? More than is healthy and acceptable? Do I still cloud your judgment?"

"Always."

She does not turn, but he can see her reflection in the window. He moves toward her, slow and careful, then raises his hands to her arms. She leans back into him and he holds hI amer, resting his head atop hers. When she raises her hands to his, he finds comfort. Yes, Reddas was gone. Yes, Gabranth was likely dead and yes, Balthier was grieving, but there was hope. If they can stop Vayne… if they can restore Dalmasca, then maybe Basch can take up his sword and defend his queen again.

It seems Ashe is thinking of the same matters. "If we make it back to Rabanastre, is there a future for you and I?"

"I would not be worthy of you, Princess," he says, feeling her hair against his cheek. "I am a knight, not a prince. I am seventeen years your senior."

"I do not care," she says, looking up at him over her shoulder. "I will restore your name and your position when I am crowned. What will your excuse be then?"

"I have failed Dalmasca and Landis as well as my family. I would still not be worthy. I am not worthy to touch you now – it is an honor that you permit it."

Ashe smiles a bit and looks out the window. Basch always did have his moments of eloquence. "Can we not place all of that aside?"

He sighs and turns his face against her neck, seeking he comfort of her warmth, if only for a moment. It is a bold move, one he would never make during times less trying. "I do not know."

"When we get back to Rabanastre, I think we should try."

"When we get back to Rabanastre, I think we should sleep."

Ashe laughs and closes her eyes, reaching up and running her fingers through Basch's hair. It is all he can do not to moan at the sensation. "Princess…"

"I still love you." Ashe has always been very open with her emotions in his company. She was self-aware, even as a child. "As both a friend and… well, something more."

"And I still love you." The words are difficult and he nearly stumbles over them, for he is a knight and knights to not make such confessions to princesses. It is improper, wrong and against the moral code, but Basch has seen how short life is, and it has awakened a thirst in him to follow what is left of his heart.

"Then… we shall see?"

He kisses Ashe's temple in response, trying his hardest to be open to the idea, though a sense of foreboding keeps him from being hopeful. There is a fight coming, he knows, and should he have to lay down his life for her, he knows he will without a second thought.

"We shall see."

* * *

**Author's Note:** This chapter refused to cooperate with me. First, I just couldn't put together the Pharos scene, which is why it starts in the middle. Then I couldn't get the Landis part together. Then Ashe decided, all on her own, that she wanted to have that little talk with Basch and so she did, completely without my consent.

She's quite a handful, that Ashe.

Not so great, but real life stepped in today - I'm not a fan of that "real life" stuff. More ASAP!


	14. Never Enough Time

**Never Enough Time.**

There is never enough time.

Ashe walks behind the others, her heart pounding in her chest. She is close – so close – to stopping Vayne and ending the war that rages over her city, her home. He is somewhere above them, in the Sky Fortress Bahamut, closer than he has ever been.

Stop Vayne and Larsa assumes command.

Larsa assumes command, and Dalmasca is restored.

She is two steps from the end. Two complicated, difficult steps to regaining her crown, and it feels so close that she can touch it, taste it, feel it, but it is still so far away.

_If only we could have rested_, she thinks. They gained barely a nap after destroying the Sun-cryst and talking to Al-Cid. _If only we'd had time to prepare and not simply restock…_

The fortress' command tower looms ahead as they descend the stairs. It is massive, illuminated by thousands of small lights, and Ashe wonders how they will ever find Vayne in this floating castle.

_He'll be at the top_, she assures herself. _Balthier knows what he is doing._

_He was a judge, after all._

The fortress gives a nasty jolt as the battle rages on outside. Ashe grips the railing and Basch braces himself nearby. "It's getting bad out there," Vaan says ahead of them. He grips Penelo tightly, offering balance.

After a moment, the Bahamut steadies and the sextet straighten themselves. Ashe looks to Basch and she sees confidence in his eyes. It heartens her and she nods to him, gripping her sword.

"The resistance fights their battle well," Fran observes. "We dare not fail them. We dare not falter."

_They will not survive if we fail_, Ashe realizes. It is more than just her friends' lives at stake here – thousands of resistance soldiers outside will die should Vayne be allowed to persist.

"Stop worrying," Vaan says confidently. "We just have to clean up here and Ashe'll be the queen."

Penelo steps up beside him. "It's kind of hard to believe. I can't imagine trying to run a whole kingdom."

Ashe hears Basch chuckle a bit as he steps down to join them. "A queen might always run away with the help of a sky pirate looking to raise his bounty a peg."

Balthier scoffs. "I doubt _our_ queen would need the help of any sky pirates."

Ashe smiles. Their confidence in her mission and in her ability to rule means more to her than she can say. She steps down beside Balthier. "Do you really think me as strong as all that?"

"Who said anything about strong?" Ashe looks down to Vaan. "You'll make it. You got good friends."

_Yes,_ Ashe thinks as they proceed toward the elevator, _I do.

* * *

_

Vaan fumbles with the controls, and Basch takes the moment to breathe. The battle ahead will not be easy, but Vayne is only one man.

_A man with nethicite_, he thinks. _An advantage we do not have_.

He looks to Ashe and finds her pensive, lost in her own thoughts. He would disturb her, tell her that everything will be alright – after their discussion on the Strahl he has more hope, not only for the restoration of Dalmasca, but for them, for their happiness. As long as he can remain with her, he knows he will be happy, and her want to keep him near makes all of his suffering seem worthwhile.

He would tell her his, stumble over the words while they head upwards on the command tower, but he hears the familiar sound of a man limping in armor from behind. He has hope and dread as he turns and sees Gabranth before them, sword in hand.

"So you have lived," he says. He would be happy for his brother's appearance – happy that Noah survived, if their mission at hand were not so dire.

"I am Judge Magister." Gabranth steps forward and falters. "Even in disgrace."

Pharos was mere hours ago, not even a day. Basch saw the way he hit the stone and fell to the ground and cringes at the thought of wearing heavy armor with those injuries.

"My just reward for aiding the empire that destroyed my homeland."

"Gabranth, do not blame yourself anymore." Basch steps forward. His newfound hope urges him to release his guilt for Landis, and he would have his brother do the same.

"You confound me, brother!" Gabranth cries out. "You failed Landis. You failed Dalmasca… all you were to protect. Yet you still hold onto your honor. How?"

"I had someone more important to defend," Basch tells him. He feels Ashe's eyes on his back. "And defend her I have. How is it that you have survived? Is it not because you defend Lord Larsa?"

"Silence! All was stripped from me!"

_So Gabranth is not here under orders_, Basch realizes. _He is truly in disgrace. He must be here solely for Larsa. _

"Only hatred for the brother who fled our homeland remains mine." He separates the blades in his hands, and Basch recalls Noah's skill with multiple weapons. For a stranger, it would be intimidating. For Basch it is a familiarity that will serve him.

"Tell me," Gabranth implores, "why do you forsake that which you must hold most precious?"

"I do as I must, brother. Or is that not answer enough?"

Basch takes up his sword and battles Gabranth, grateful that the others have the sense to stay back. As they parry each other and move, Basch sees Penelo hiding her face in Basch's shoulder, Fran with an arrow ready at her bow, Balthier with his gun in hand – his finger on the trigger. Ashe stands separate from them, her sword gripped in both hands, and Basch feels better, knowing that if he were to fall they would take Gabranth before he could harm them.

The fight is exhausting and long, for each brother can predict the other's movements before he makes them. Basch pants, exhausted as he blocks another blow from Gabranth, and then he finds his opening. His sword meets the steel guarding Gabranth's side and the force behind it brings Gabranth to his knees. He struggles up to his feet, but his air is gone and he cannot breathe. One of the blades falls from his grasp, and he raises the other to their eye level.

"Have you your fill of this?"

Basch knows what he asks. 'Will you kill me?'

"I would ask you the same," he says in return. "Let this end, Noah."

Gabranth falls to his knees and bows his head, and Basch knows that his brother has seen reason – that this fight is useless. They are brothers, and whether they be on opposite sides of any battle line, the war should never be between them.

Treachery or not, this is his twin – now broken, now sensible.

"I've no right to be called by that name."

"Then live and reclaim it."

There is silence between them, and Basch knows he must leave Noah to finish his errand with Vayne. He looks to Vaan and nods for him to throw the switch and move them upwards.

"I will come back for you," he tells Noah, kneeling as the lift comes to life and begins to move. "And we will leave together. You needn't go back to Archades."

He reaches for Noah's helmet to remove it – he must be in pain – but Noah stops him, seizing his hand. "No. I must complete my duty to Lord Larsa."

Basch nods slowly. "I understand."

Noah looks up at him, and for just a moment the light agrees to illuminate his face through the slit he sees through. He sees Noah's eyes for only a second, but it is enough. Noah's voice is tired and worn: "I know you do, brother."

* * *

Vayne has changed, Ashe realizes, and she stares in horror as he commands his illuminated swords to aim themselves at her and her party. His face appears rotten, decaying and grotesque, and his body is warped. His muscles bulge in ways that will haunt her dreams for years to come…

If she survives to dream in the years to come.

She does not notice Gabranth until Vayne addresses him, but a part of her is relieved the Judge has lived, though she hates him still for his deception and crimes against her family.

But he is Basch's brother, and so she cares.

"Gabranth, you will defend my brother," Vayne orders. Only his voice has remained untouched. Ashe looks over to the Judge Magister. She hates him, and yet she has never seen his face. "He will have much need in the hell to follow."

She watches, awestruck, as Gabranth raises his blade and points it at Vayne. Basch, only a few feet from her, gasps quietly, and she sees the same awe that she feels written on his face.

_Perhaps this is the Noah he knew,_ she thinks. _Perhaps this is the Noah he always wanted to be his brother_.

_It may be too late_.

"Yes, I _will _defend Lord Larsa!"

Vayne's eyes leave Ashe for the first time. Balthier shifts at Ashe's left and she chances a glance at him. The pirate has not taken his eyes from Vayne. His hand is tight around his Formalhaut, his finger twitching as it always does over the trigger. It would seem that Balthier, who had only joined them in hope of payment, now takes Ashe's charge personally.

Perhaps it was personal from the moment his father was mentioned.

Vayne's voice booms over them. "The hound strays. Treason bears a price."

"One I gladly pay."

Basch's chest swells in something Ashe imagines is akin to pride. She looks back to Vayne and raises her own sword, rushing in to attack Vayne's Occurian blades.

* * *

Basch looks on as Larsa falls to his knees. Capturing Vayne's swords could not have been simple for such a young boy, but he has managed it. Basch stares at him in astonishment. Larsa risked his life to protect his guard. Perhaps he and Ashe are more alike than they are different.

There is hope for Archadia.

Ashe has rushed on to follow Vayne. Penelo comforts Larsa, and Basch looks to the boy from his brother's side. Basch knows how the young Solidor must feel – betrayed, broken and cold by his brother's departure. Surely Vayne will die now, and Larsa must know. Unless Vanat finds some way to preserve his life, it is likely the injuries the now-Emperor has sustained will keep him from ever making an escape.

Basch supports Noah's head as he watches Penelo comfort Larsa, who remains quite still. His display of courage in attacking Vayne has made Basch believe in many things – that Noah has returned, that his sense of honor has been restored, and that there would be a chance for redemption if his wounds were not mortal.

There is not time enough to ask what happened – what made Noah understand – but Basch thinks he knows.

It was Larsa. It was knowing he was protecting something precious, something that would change the world for the better. It was being responsible for keeping him safe until he could defend himself. It was defending Larsa's life, honor and station, and caring for the boy himself, without the title and circumstance, for simply being Larsa.

Yes, Basch understands, and if his brother is anything like him, he knows Noah understands now too.

Honor is not given. It is felt.

Identical hearts beat in identical chests, and now they have identical definitions of honor and knighthood.

"Basch, tell me. He is a good master?"

Basch nods. "Aye." He looks down to Noah, whose consciousness is fading. He wishes to stay by his brother's side – to try and save him, but there is never time enough.

He lays Noah down and leaves with Penelo to follow the others after Vayne.

* * *

Vayne falls and disintegrates in a fiery display. When the smoke clears there is a blue sky – one they had not seen for nearly an hour of being encased by Vayne and Venat's magicks. Ashe looks out from the platform to Rabanastre below. By tonight, the city will be free. By tonight, she will be queen.

By tonight, she will be herself again.

Basch catches the moment in the air. He can feel Rabanastre beneath them – home is so close, and though he has no bed, no place to call his own, he will be relieved beyond measure to walk through the Westgate and see his city again. The city he's fought so fiercely to protect, both for himself and for Vossler.

He does not look out to the city, though. He looks to Ashe – her blonde hair moving in the breeze, her blood running down her arms toward her sword, the deep gash on her leg. They have nothing left with which to heal themselves, no ether's to raise their limits for working magick, but it does not bother him. The exhaustion does not bother him because they are _home_ and Ashe is safe.

Dalmasca is safe, and they shall see what happens next.

And next is very soon.

Upon realizing the war still raged in the skies overhead, Basch, Ashe, Penelo, and Vaan followed Fran and Balthier back inside Bahamut. They found Larsa kneeling over Gabranth, speaking to him quietly. Ashe approaches him and kneels at his side.

"Larsa, you must come with us."

"My brother is dead, isn't he?"

She nods solemnly and reaches out to place her hand on the young Emperor's shoulder. "I am sorry."

"Do not be," Larsa says. His voice is solid, despite the grief Ashe knows he must feel. "The man you saw today was not the brother I had known."

Ashe looks up to Basch, knowing he amongst them would understand Larsa best, but there is no time do discuss these matters now. The Bahamut gives a mighty quake and Ashe stands.

"We must leave."

Basch nods and Balthier and the pair kneel, taking Noah by the arms and pulling him up. He groans, and Basch is grateful his brother lives, but he hasn't the time to tell him so.

"Vaan. A little help here?"

"Right." Vaan steps forward and helps them carry Noah back to the lift. They lean him against the railing and support him until they reach the lower level, and carry him with great effort towards the Strahl.

"Leave me, brother," Noah says. Basch scoffs.

"No. I would not leave you to die here."

"I will die regardless."

"Quiet, Noah."

* * *

They lay the judge on the bench behind the cockpit, and Larsa immediately kneels at his side. Ashe watches the boy, considering all that he has lost in the weeks past – his father, his brother, and now his protector? _Oh, Larsa,_ she thinks. _I am so sorry it has to be like this. You of all people do not deserve this pain_.

_I know what it means to lose those you love_.

Ashe looks to Basch as he kneels at his brother's side. She can do nothing for him now, so as she passes, she simply runs her fingers through his hair to let him know she is there – to remind him they are both alive.

Balthier slides with ease into his pilot's seat. He looks to Fran who quickly surveys the power levels.

"No fuel goes to the glossair engines."

"Damn!" he exclaims and stands from his seat. "Vaan, you're in charge. I'm checking the engine room. Fran, with me!"

The viera and sky pirate make only a few strides toward the back of the airship before an explosion nearby rocks the craft. Ashe looks up through the windshield and stares in horror.

"Look! Bahamut's glossair rings are stopping!"

They come to a standstill, and she realizes this can spell certain disaster for the city below.

"Vaan!" Balthier points at the boy. "As soon as the Strahl's rings move, you take off. Understood."

Vaan readily jumps into Balthier's coveted captain's chair, but when he does, he looks uncertain. "You can fly her Vaan. Just do it like I told you."

"Don't worry."

Fran moves Penelo into the copilot's seat, and the girl looks uncertain as well. "Penelo, watch for interference from the Bahamut's skystone. The Strahl's a fickle girl. You keep her working for us."

Penelo's optimism shines through. "I'll see what I can do."

Balthier and Fran leave the cockpit, passing by Basch and Larsa, who are both kneeling beside Noah. There is an understanding between them, as Noah speaks, and Basch feels his future slipping from his calloused fingers. It is a feeling he is familiar with, but it has never devastated him in this way.

He will wear his brother's face as Noah once wore his.

"Basch. Look after Larsa, will you?" Noah asks. His eyes are pleading, an expression Basch has felt on his own face but never seen. "If House Solidor should crumble, the Empire would fail and civil war would take us all."

What would Basch care of the Empire? He thinks of the kind Archadian citizens they encountered while on their way to Draklor. They would be killed in a bloody war between countrymen.

_If I could save but one person from war's horror, then I would bear any shame._

_I would bear it proudly._

"I understand," Basch agrees. Though he is glad he can offer is brother some dying comfort, he knows what this sacrifice will mean. He forfeits his and Ashe's future, his right to reclaim his name, and his service to Dalmasca.

"Lord Larsa is our last hope," he says. His voice is faltering, and Larsa stands and turns away, taken by his grief. The Strahl begins to move – he hears Vaan and Penelo's excited voices, and he tries to remain steady as this ship roars to life, and Vaan accelerates. They are carried away from the falling fortress quickly, but Basch has no time, nor the will to celebrate. "Protect him. I would entrust him to no other's care."

"I will keep him from harm," Basch assures Noah, holding his hand tightly in his own. Larsa will restore Dalmasca with Ashe. The boy's mind is unclouded by dreams of unending power – he will be a fine ruler. "I promise you. For the Empire, and for Dalmasca."

"Your words put me at ease, brother." Basch rests his head against their folded hands and closes his eyes. "Sorry to leave you."

Noah breathes his last, and Basch is left alone. He will soon be trapped in his brother's skin, taken from all he knows and holds dear. He breathes deeply, pushing back his anger and fear – pushing back the memory of the hope he felt as Vayne fell and the sky cleared. He will do it. He will assume his brother's position.

For the Empire, and for Dalmasca.

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Since the next part was written at the same time as this one, I suggest moving straight on to chapter 15. I think it's title - "Kiss Me Goodbye" - should be incentive enough :)


	15. Kiss Me Goodbye

**Kiss me goodbye.**

Larsa steps into the cockpit, and it is written across his face what has happened. Ashe stands from her seat and approaches him. "Larsa…"

"I am fine," he says. "There will be time to grieve later. We must alert those fighting that this war is over."

She would have expected no less of him.

"Approach the Garland," Ashe instructs Vaan. It would be best to do this from the center of the fray – closest to Ondore.

"Yes, ma'am." There is a joking, happy tone in Vaan's voice, but Ashe cannot appreciate it. The formality – ma'am. She will soon be "Majesty" again. The queen.

As they move toward the resistance's flagship, Ashe looks back to Basch, who is climbing to his feet alone. She watches as he wipes the moisture from under his eyes with his palm, then strides towards them, calm and in control.

"Are you prepared?" Larsa asks him. Ashe furrows her brow and looks to Basch, who has come to stand beside her.

"Yes." He takes the microphone from its hook on the wall and waits for the moment when he will have to speak.

He cannot look at Ashe, though he feels her eyes on him, confused. "Basch, what is happening?"

It is Larsa who answers. "Basch will be assuming Gabranth's role as Judge Magister. Gabranth is powerful and respected by the Archadians senators and the Empire as a whole. His presence will expedite the changes ahead. There may also be those who would have me dead. Basch has agreed to take his brother's place as my protector."

Ashe feels the color drain from her face. Basch will go to Archades? He would leave her for Larsa and the Empire?

He finally looks down at her, and she can see the redness in his eyes. _No. He will leave Dalmasca for his brother_.

"I am sorry."

She simply nods and turns away from him, unable to look at him as he speaks to the masses in his brother's voice. "This is Judge Magister Gabranth. All units quarters, cease fire!"

Ashe watches as the war continues outside. Basch repeats earnestly: "I repeat: all units of the Archadian army, hold your fire. The battle is over. As of this moment, we have signed a cease-fire with Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca… Her Royal Majesty."

Ashe turns and looks at him, and he glances at her as he hands the microphone to Larsa. The words left unspoken are there.

_Always my princess_.

"Attention," Larsa begins. "This is Larsa Ferrinas Solidor. My brother Vayne has died with honor in battle. The Imperial Fleet is now under my command."

He hands it over further to Ashe, and she notices how his hands shake. He is too young to bear the weight of the Archadian Empire when it has cost his family so much.

But there is no time to dwell on it.

"This is Ashelia Dalmasca." Ashe can feel the tears burning behind her dry eyes. A prickling feeling runs up her nose and she knows she cannot hold back the sobs for long – not when so much has been achieved and lost in one day.

"I confirm what Judge Magister Gabranth and Larsa Solidor have said here. Please, stand down your attack. The war is over." The words catch in her throat. "Ivalice looks to the horizon."

The firing around them stops and a thousand airships move back to their flagships. A thousand soldiers breathe sighs of relief. A thousand women cry for the safety of their men. A thousand children laugh because their future becomes brighter.

"A new day has dawned. We are free."

She closes her eyes and lets it wash over her – both like a chill and a warm blanket. Like a victory and like holding a teddy bear. The tears come, and she feels a hand on her shoulder. Basch's hand. She turns into him – into his comfort, safety, and warmth; into his strength and unending determination that has brought them here; into his love and his grief. He holds her, his arms tight around her, his hand in her hair as he holds her head to his chest. She can feel his heartbeat, his breaths coming slow and steady, and knows the pain he carries. She cannot think beyond the moment – beyond this place where they are, for they are many places and many people at once.

Prince and princess.

Farmer and milkmaid.

Queen and knight.

* * *

They agree that at least an hour is needed to make the necessary preparations, so Vaan flies them far from Rabanastre to move over the Westersand. Ashe looks on Gabranth with Basch. They are truly indistinguishable, save for the beard, hair and scar. Ashe looks to Larsa.

"He will need to cut his hair and shave, yes?"

"Basch?" Larsa asks with a sniff. "Yes. I suppose he will, unless he objects. I do not know who last saw him without his helm, save for me."

"We cannot take too many chances."

Ashe nods. Penelo walks back to them, a handkerchief in her hand. She mops the tears from her cheeks and stands before them, her head hung.

"I don't suppose they survived, did they?"

"It is possible," Basch says, only because he cannot bear the thought of Balthier and Fran laying lifeless in the broken Bahamut. Their actions were courageous, worthy of recognition and reward – Balthier's single escapade that should bring him fortune will not.

"The Bahamut will be searched soon for survivors. We will know if they have lived soon enough."

Ashe wraps an arm around Penelo, and the girl turns into her shoulder and cries. Ashe holds her and rubs her back comfortingly. "It's over, Penelo," she whispers. "We can go home to Rabanastre."

"But Basch can't. And Balthier and Fran…"

Ashe closes her eyes tight, feeling her breath shudder and catch in her throat. She cannot take this. It is too hard, and there is too little time – not enough to say everything. Never enough.

Basch steps toward his brother and reaches toward the laces of his armor. Penelo sees and grabs his hand tightly in her own. "I will do it."

"Penelo –"

"He is your brother. You do not need to see this."

Basch could never abide weakness in himself before this journey. He feels more human now than ever. He is aware of his fragile heart beating in his chest, his breakable bones and the blurring of his vision from the tears.

His brother is dead.

He cannot go home.

"Go clean up. I will bring you his armor."

Basch nods and strides from the room. When he turns into the hallway toward the washroom, Ashe sees him raise his hand to his mouth as though to stifle some noise he would rather keep to himself. She holds her breath, trying to force down her own trepidation. She does not deserve to cry. Not yet.

"Penelo, be careful with his body. Dress him in Basch's spare clothing, will you?"

The girl nods, and she knows she would rather not dress the body of a man who looks so like Basch, but there is no other way. Vaan must pilot. Larsa is too young and too close.

Ashe gives Penelo a hug, something she has not done before, and leaves to follow Basch.

She finds him in the washroom adjacent to the bedroom. He is bent over the sink, his arms locked against the counter, his head bowed. His vest and shirt lay discarded on the nearest bed and the straps of his shoes are half undone. He does not hear her enter. His shoulders shake and heave as he tries to control himself.

Ashe cannot bear the sight of her knight this way. She moves up behind him slowly and sees him turn his head ever so slightly in acknowledgment of her presence. "Ashe?"

She shushes him and wraps her arms around his waist from behind. She feels the pressure against her open palms as he breathes in and out. With her forehead resting between his shoulders, she speaks.

"I am so sorry, Basch," she whispers.

He says nothing – only reaches for a pair of scissors that rest on the counter. Ashe takes them from him and he nods. He moves to sit on the edge of the tub and she leans over him, cutting away the long blonde locks that she loves so much. She watches as they flutter to the floor. She moves slowly, carefully, cutting it as closely as she can to mimc Noah's hair. It isn't until she steps back to survey her work that she realizes he has shaved.

Ashe runs her hands over the smooth skin at his jaw, then considers the scar. Basch sees her eyes flicker there. "We will have to cut it again."

Ashe cringes, but she would not leave him to take a blade so close to his eye. She nods and moves as close to him as she can, kneeling before him.

Basch looks at her and she can feel the new tensity in his body. He makes no motion but to reach down to his calf and withdraw a small dagger from his shoe. He hands it to her and swallows hard, closing his eyes in anguish.

She does not want to hurt him, but it is necessary. The scar is easily seen. If anyone who knew Gabranth were to notice that it was too old, Basch would be in danger.

Ashe carefully raises the dagger to his face and bites her lip, trying to steady her hand. She places the tip at the upper edge of the scar and slowly sinks it into his skin – her heart aching as she knows how much she hurts him. The last person in Ivalice that she would want to hurt is Basch, and yet she has to.

The day has been cruel.

She moves the dagger slowly through the scar, opening the long healed wound again, and watching as blood trickles down Basch's face. She seizes a towel from a nearby stack and presses it to his face, waiting for the flow to stop.

They say nothing, though the tension between them grows by the second. It isn't until the bleeding has stopped and his blood has clotted that she steps away.

"I had hoped you could reconcile with your brother."

"But I did," Basch says. He stands, towering over her, and steps back. He walks into the bedroom and sits on the edge of what has become his bed and removes his shoes. He takes a damp rag from a basin he's set on the table and begins to wash the blood and sweat from his body. "He asked me to protect Larsa in his place. He is my brother, Ashe."

"And your first oath was to him. I would not have you break it."

"But if you ask me to, I will." It is a loaded statement, but he does not look at her. He cannot.

"I would not have you do something that would leave you guilty for the rest of your life."

He nods, and a part of her wants to tell him to come with her, Larsa and Gabranth be damned. She will return alone. She will rule, watched by other guards – men she does no trust. She will sleep alone. She will suffer to keep Basch, who has lost so much, from breaking one more vow.

"I thank you, your Majesty."

Ashe stands there silent, and watches him. She tries to memorize him, to commit every line of him to memory – the shadows on his arms from his muscles, the flat planes of his chest and face, the way his legs shift as he moves – she even tries to remember the scar, now red and angry, for it is all that will separate him from Gabranth's former appearance.

But this is not how she would remember him. She would recall him laughing in Landis as they walked the streets. She would remember him as he was the night of her sixteenth birthday – so noble and ready to make any sacrifice for her. She would keep his face as she saw it as he held her in the rain on the steps of the palace. She would remember him as he was after Vossler died, holding her.

She would remember him as he ran into battle to protect her or as he was when he held her and said "we shall see."

_Was that only hours ago? Can an entire dream be lost so quickly_?

Basch cannot look at her. Not when she had admitted she still loved him. There was so much between them – more than space and time could define – and there was no way to bridge it. He was bound for Archades, and her for their home. They would be worlds apart with no reunion in sight.

An entire future gone with the request of one dying man.

How can he apologize when he never felt he was worth to begin with? How can he tell her that he would have stayed with her until the very end –until death took them both. That he'd dreamed of her laughing with her children – their children – as he slept on their way to meet Vayne?

How can he love her from Archades?

It is impossible, and he cannot invite these revelations. It is too hard. He cannot bring her more pain.

"Basch, why won't you look at me?"

She is crying. He can hear it and he cringes at the sound of her breaking voice. He turns his face away from her, though his eyes are closed. His hands fall still.

"There is nothing left to say."

"You would release me so easily?"

And he has hurt her again. He cannot let this stand, but he cannot speak. The words are not there, and if there were, there would not be enough time.

"I am Judge Magister," he says, echoing his brother's words in his own voice. "I must leave. It will further the cause of peace in Ivalice."

"I understand. I do not fault you!"

"Then what would you have me say?" he asks. He looks to her and sees her face – red and splotchy with grief and happiness. He imagines that her heart is in the same state of tumult his is – a place between utter pain and elation. Dalmasca is free, but many have died – many they cared about. How can they celebrate when so many have paid for Dalmasca's liberation with their lives?

"I would… I do not know…" Ashe stutters.

Basch stands and looks at her. "I will miss you."

Ashe's balance falters. She places her hand against the dresser to steady herself. Basch does not catch her – she must stand alone now. He will not be there to help her – to find all the Percivals she would have him rescue.

"All that I have done," he says slowly, ensuring that not a word is misspoken or missed, "I have thought of you. You are Dalmasca now, but you have always been Dalmasca to me."

"Balthier… Balthier had my ring. The one you gave me."

She looks up at him and Basch sees the carefree girl he fell in love with. It seems so long ago with wars and cages between them. "You do not need the ring," he tells her. "You know that I would have stayed with you. I would never have left your side had I been given the chance."

"But Balthier…"

"You know that you are always my princess. I will work for Dalmasca – for you – from Archades. I would keep you safe in that way when no one else can."

"Will I see you again?"

"To be sure," he says. Ashe steps into his arms and he embraces her, holding her tight as he did before. "I will see you again soon. There will be negotiations, meetings… and I will be there with you and Larsa."

"You are a good man, Basch." Her voice is muffled as she buries it against is chest. "I know you feel that you have failed, but you never did. Never, not once."

"That is all that matters," he says, pressing his cheek against her temple. "That you believe I have done well means I have."

"Because I am Dalmasca?"

"Because you are what I believe in."

He feels her arms around him. They tighten and he nearly crushes her as he holds her tighter in response. It isn't until Penelo knocks on the door and brings in Gabranth's armor that he releases her.

Ashe helps Basch dress. She strips him to his underclothes and helps him into the under armor that his brother wore. She can smell the cologne on the fabric – so unlike that which Basch wore when he was afforded such luxuries.

She kneels before him, despite his protests, and straps on the leg guards and helps him into his sabatons. She does not let him handle the armguards and helps him into his breastplate, for as long as she keeps her hands busy, she is not crying.

It isn't until the helm is the only part left that she begins to shake. "I never imagined walking b-back into Rabanastre without you," she stutters.

He looks at her and swallows hard. "I've avoided Archades all my life and now I am bound there."

She looks up to him. The armor is thick, and now it is one more thing between them. Basch raises his gloved hand to her face and strokes it. Her heart races. There is so little time and so much to say. There are so few words – none of them strong enough to tell him how she feels. None of them can bear the weight that rests near her heart where she keeps him.

"Kiss me," she whispers. They are words she has never said before – words she has never had to say, for Rasler never waited for her to ask.

"Ashe… please, this is hard enough."

"Just once." She cries freely. "Please. I am no queen, not yet, and until you step off the Strahl with Larsa, you are just Basch… only yourself."

He wants to resist, to tell her that it's unwise to break this dam and open these gates. He would have her know that the feeling of her lips would remain forever on his and that her kiss would haunt him forever, but he cannot.

"Just kiss me goodbye."

His hands move of their own accord, reaching to her waist and pulling her closer. She looks up to him, pressed against his armor, and he swears he can almost feel her heartbeat beneath his fingers – or is that his own pulse racing?

She stands on her toes; he leans down towards her until he can feel her breath on his cheek. With one palm pressed between her shoulders and the other hand cradling her neck, he leans in an inch forward and seals the gap between them, taking away all that would separate them.

They are suspended as Ashe rakes her fingers back through his hair – he can feel her hand against is scalp and it melts him. What he'd intended to be simple and sweet turns into something else – something he did not expect, but cannot stop. He would not want to. He feels her tongue against his lips and he pulls her tighter, unable to stifle the moan that builds in his throat. She responds in kind, and he embraces her with such force that she is lifted off of her feet and into his arms.

A rush of happiness, triumph and desperation spreads from his heart through his body as he holds her tighter, wishing with all his might that his Archadian trappings would fall away and let him feel her nearness the way he has never let himself want before.

He stumbles under the weight of the armor and his princess, and presses her against the door, using his body to hold her up. He feels the curve of her leg and the gentle slope of her waist with his hand – the pulse at her neck with his tongue. He feels her whimper at is touch and tells himself that he cannot want it, not because it is improper or against any rules, but because he cannot have it.

"Basch." She whispers his name and he holds onto the sound, wanting to remember it. When will he next be called by that name? A tear runs down his cheek as he realizes that only those on this ship will know that it is he who walks as Judge Magister Gabranth.

He relents, knowing they cannot continue, but does not let her go. He presses his forehead against hers and kisses her again, lightly, as though it were a simple goodbye and he would see her again soon.

"Do not forget, Ashe. I beg you."

"How could I?" He contents himself with this and lowers her to the floor, knowing he should not have acted so boldly, but they had no time to try and find the words.

Ashe's hands shake so strongly that she can hardly pick up the helm from the bed. Basch steadies them and lets her complete his armor. He feels the darkness close him off from her as Gabranth's helmet settles onto the armor.

"When you leave this ship, the world will know you as Judge Magister Gabranth," Ashe says, "but I know who you are, Basch fon Ronsenburg."

"You are the only one who truly does, my princess – the only one I would have know."

"Always your princess."

"Even when you are queen."

* * *

Basch strides from the Strahl at Larsa's side, his steps long and controlled. The armor is oppressive, but he wears it proudly, knowing his brother would have done the same as he walked beside the young Lord. _Noah died with honor_, he tells himself, _and it is left to me to make sure he lives with honor as well._

Only once does he turn and look back. The crowd of soldiers and Rabanastrans cheered for Larsa's emergence, but their voices raise, their cheers turn to cries as Ashe steps out to her people, the Treaty-Blade at her side.

Basch places a hand on Larsa's shoulder to stop him, and he watches as Ashelia B'nargin Damasca greets her people with hugs, handshakes, and a grin worthy only of a queen. She finds the happiness in her heart and pulls it from her pain, showing the best of herself and this day to her people.

He may have lost his name, but Basch will carry with him the pride of knowing he helped seat the rightful queen of his true homeland back on her throne, and it is enough.

It is enough.

* * *

Author's Note: Parts 14 and 15 were written together as one chapter, but it was the size of two so they had to be split. I've been looking forward to writing this part, so I hope you enjoyed it (especially after chapter 13 was so... um... well, let's not talk about it). Please let me know what you think!


	16. Letters

**Letters**

Ashe leans into her balcony rail and places her face in her hands. The day has been long and trying, as she had attempted to do something that had not once been done in all the history of Dalmasca – a town hall meeting.

The people that attended were mostly Rabanastrans, but several came from the outlying villages, and they each had a question or concern to voice. The meeting had begun just after dawn and had ended well after nightfall. Ashe fulfilled her promise that she would hear what each citizen had to say, and she herself spoke with them, one at a time, in an empty Aerodrome hangar. A scribe sat at her side, taking notes on each of the conflicts that would require attention, and recorded the smaller decrees that Ashe made in the moment.

It took three groups of five guards to get through the day, and not one of them, Ashe had found, had a sense of humor. She tried to speak with them, but none were comfortable enough to respond with more than a few words.

Ashe wanted _her_ knight back, but as she looks out over the city and to the northern lands, she remembers that it is impossible. She recalls his last words to her – so quiet and so controlled – as they separated the morning after the Bahamut fell nearly three months ago.

* * *

_Ashe sits in the formal dining room, accompanied only by Larsa, Basch and Penelo, as Vaan has gone to check on the other orphans at Penelo's request. She had not expected the young lord to stay in Rabanastre for more than a few hours, but the day's events had proven to tire him more than expected. Basch, who was charged with his wellbeing, had arranged for imperial guards to patrol the palace before departing the following day to bear Larsa home. They eat in silence with the doors shut tight to ward off those who would interrupt their solitude._

_The food – fresh and prepared less than an hour prior – tastes nearly too strong for Ashe after months of bland porridges and vegetables cooked in only water over open fires. She eats it, though her stomach protests, because she has always loved strawberry pancakes, and she cannot imagine wanting anything else on her first morning home._

_It was Basch who had suggested it to the kitchens from inside his brother's helm._

_Ashe looks up at him from across the table. He keeps his head down, his helmet resting on the floor beside his feet, moving awkwardly in the armor that is not his. Larsa, whose eyes are red and clothes are dirty, continuously looks up to Ashe and Penelo, as though waiting for them to say something, but unable to find the words to start a conversation himself._

_Her seat across the large table seems cold and lonely, so Ashe reaches across the gap with her feet and searches for a gap in Gabranth's armor. She finds it near Basch's calf and gently strokes it with her toes, trying to get his attention._

_He does not look up, but she thinks she sees a hint of a smile across his lips. It is enough, but just barely._

"_What will you do first, Ashe?" Penelo asks, shattering the silence. Ashe looks to her, hoping desperately that the scratch across the girl's neck will not leave a scar._

"_First we will reestablish the guard," she explains, "a project that I hadn't considered handling on my own."_

_Basch's eyes flicker up to her, but only for a second. She sees the motion from the corner of her eye._

"_Then I will sign the formal documents that reinstate Dalmasca's sovereignty. Larsa has already had them drawn up. Then, I suppose I will work at getting the city restructured. I will have to have meetings with the town's people to find out what needs to be changed."_

"_I suppose I will be doing similar things with the senators," Larsa says. He has barely touched his food, and he sinks down into his chair beside Basch, looking smaller than Ashe has ever seen him._

"_Will you be accompanying him, Basch?" Penelo leans forward to see him, but Basch does not look at her._

"_I suppose so." They are the first words he has spoken all morning, aside from the required greetings._

"_Ashe, would you mind if I took a walk through the garden?" Larsa asks. Ashe shakes her head knowing that he could use some fresh air, and Larsa stands, offering his hand to Penelo. "Would you join me?"_

_Penelo smiles, nods and leaves with him, and Basch stands to accompany him._

"_There are Imperial guards all around the palace at his request," she reminds him. "I assure you – he will be fine."_

_Slowly, Basch lowers himself back down into his seat. He does not pick up his utensils, nor does he look at her. Ashe frowns and sets her fork down, looking across the table at him._

"_Basch? What troubles you?"_

_He remains silent for a long moment, staring at a point somewhere left of her shoulder. He will not look at her, and his reluctance to do so spells out certain trouble._

_Ashe rises from her seat, her dress falling into place around her, and walks around the table to where he sits. She pulls out the chair beside him quietly and slides into it, facing him._

"_Basch?"_

_He only turns toward her a bit, his head still low. Ashe reaches out and strokes his cheek with the back of her fingers. She knows what troubles him. It is he who will continue to suffer for this war, not she or Larsa. It is he who will be faced with wearing another's life and being forced into a city he has spent his life avoiding._

_But it is she who is faced with repairing a country without him._

_Basch turns his face into her hand, his eyes closed for a minute. Ashe has forgotten how handsome he is when he is cleaned up, how good his skin smells just after a shower – as it did when he would meet her in the mornings after his daily jog. She feels the softness of his skin, so smooth after years of being hidden by a heavier beard, and remembers how he felt against her – how his lips felt on hers the day before. Though they are in the same room, it feels as though they have truly said their goodbyes._

"_I will leave for Archades in a few hours with Larsa," he says quietly, as though someone could overhear. "I will have to live there, likely for the rest of my life to fulfill my brother's obligations."_

"_The rest of your life?" Ashe frowns, having thought he would see Archadia reestablished and then return to Rabanastre… and her. "I thought you would be coming back."_

_Basch shakes his head and looks at his hands, gloved and folded in his lap. "Noah's contract was unending. He was bound to the Archadian Empire for life."_

"_But… you are not Noah."_

"_To them I will be," he says. Ashe withdraws her hand and stares at him._

"_Surely Larsa will –"_

"_Larsa needs his guard more than ever now," Basch interjects. "He will need someone to watch him day and night until he can establish himself. Once the senators realize he is no puppet, they will seek to have him removed."_

_Ashe looks down. It would be horrible to see Larsa killed for his spirit, but having Basch bound to him, unable to return to his home…_

"_I have no name here," Basch says. "Not enough time has passed. Many in the city could recognize me still."_

"_I would have you protected."_

"_Like a child?" He finally looks to her, his pale brown eyes searching her face for some kind of answer. "Majesty, there is no other way."_

"_Then you would forsake anything between us."_

"_Not forsake," he says. He reaches for her hand and she wills that his gloves would dissolve so she could feel the callouses and creases that make his hands unique. "But I do not see how…"_

"_How we could be together," she finishes for him._

"_I will miss you," he tells her. "I will think of you every day, and I will remain a knight of Dalmasca for the rest of my life, trying to restore and keep peace for the sake of this kingdom."_

_"Will I see you again?" Her words are quiet, nearly inaudible. The prospect of an entire life without him – his council and his affection – is bleak._

"_To be sure. There will be state functions, and I am sure Larsa will visit. You will come to Archades, I am sure."_

"_And every time I see you, you will be wearing that helmet."_

_They look down to the horned helm at his feet and stare at it for a long time. _

"_I would not have you wait for me," Basch says. She can hear the hesitation in his voice – these are words he does not want to say, but he says them, she knows, for her benefit and the good of Dalmasca._

_They cannot have a queen waiting for a dead knight's return._

"_I would not have you wait for me," she says. Though the thought of him with another woman makes her heart pound in jealousy, she knows Basch would make a loyal husband and wonderful father. "I would have you complete your more important duty… that which you owe your brother, and take happiness where you may find it."_

_Basch nods and slowly rises from the table. The time has come for him to take Larsa home._

"_I am glad we were given these last few hours together," he admits. Ashe stands beside him. "Will you come with us to the airships?"_

_Ashe shakes her head slowly, feeling she may regret it, but she cannot risk breaking down in front of her people. "No. I cannot."_

"_I understand."_

_A wall has been built between them – one that Ashe can see no way of scaling._

"_I must go fetch Larsa."_

_She closes her eyes. He is back where he began – in the service of a child needing protection from the world. _

"_He is fortunate to have you."_

"_And I am fortunate to have served you," he says. Ashe thinks inexplicably of the vows he made to her the night he bore Rasler home – vows that are now void. He has done his job. He has protected her until she could protect herself._

_Slowly, Basch takes her hand, leans forward, and kisses it. He cannot risk embracing her or kissing her. He cannot weaken his resolve or hers, lest they give in and escape the kingdom while they can, and make for the shores to the east._

"_My princess. I am ever at your service."

* * *

_

Ashe looks up at the stars, twinkling so brightly above, and tries to convince herself that someday the pain will fade – that someday she will not feel the empty space beside her, whispering to her that she is alone.

Basch slips into the armchair behind his desk after a long day of escorting Larsa to public meetings. He closes his eyes, taking deep breaths, free of his armor until morning. Absently, he raises his hand to his face and feels over the scar there, a bit deeper than before, and remembers the look of anguish on Ashe's face as she sliced the mark open again. Even that makes him smile, for he misses her so.

Though he is exhausted and needs sleep to survive the following day, he decides to take a moment to write her a letter. He withdraws some of his brother's stationery and finds his pen.

_From the desk of_

_Judge Magister Gabranth_

_Archades_

_Dearest Ashe,_

_Today was a long, trying day. Lord Larsa becomes a better ruler with each passing day, and I trust that my brother would be proud of him._

_Archades is beautiful. The flowers are in bloom here. I see Galbana lilies often and think of you. The people here are kind and have great respect for the name Gabranth. It would seem that my brother was very helpful to them, though he was not particularly kind or forthcoming._

_Larsa speaks often of liberating Landis and allowing the small nation to regain her sovereignty. This would be several years from now, but I hope that someday my homeland will be as I remember her – free and independent._

_I miss you dearly. Not an hour goes by that I do not think of you in Rabanastre. I am told you have reestablished the government in its entirety in the short time since you regained your crown. I would expect no less of you. You have always been a strong, able woman and my only wish is that I __could be in the royal city to watch you in your finest hour. I think of our last day together often, and I hope that I will see you again soon._

_Know that I would be by your side if I had the choice._

_I am ever at your service,_

_Basch fon Ronsenburg_

Basch looks down at the letter in his hand. She would not mind his imperfect handwriting or his lack of eloquence, and he knows that she would receive the letter with a glad heart and excitement.

Still, he treats this missive the same as he does all the others he has written her. He opens the bottom drawer of the desk and slides it in, letting it fall atop a stack of over ninety letters – one for every day since he last saw her – one for every day he has been trapped in Archades as Gabranth.

He cannot send them. He does not fear for her pain – she has likely forgotten him in her new duties. He fears for his own, should she reply. Basch does not feel he could bear the sight of her words without that of her face.

As he stands, he nudges the drawer closed with his food and moves towards his bedroom for another night of restless sleep and dreams of his princess.


	17. Just a Guard

**Just a guard.**

_Dear Larsa,_

_It's hard to believe a year has passed so quickly. Rabanastre is finally back to the way it was. Like when my parents were still alive. But I think it's important to put the past behind us and keep our eyes on the road ahead._

_Ashe's coronation is next month. She grows farther and farther away from us, but I guess that's how it has to be. She is queen now, after all._

_I am looking forward to seeing you at the ceremony._

_How is Basch? I know he went with you to Archades to "further the cause of peace in Ivalice," but still, I hope he comes back to Rabanastre, and Ashe soon. She has to keep up appearances now, so she would never say it, but I think she misses him._

_Oh, I haven't told you the most important part! Vaan and I had been taking care of the Strahl, but it was stolen! We had just finished having her tuned up too._

_Stolen might not be the right word. If her owner wants her back, there's not much we can do._

_There's still plenty of time before the coronation, so Vaan's going to pay the two of them a visit. You should see him! He can hardly wait._

_I'll be going too, of course. Every sky pirate needs a partner, right?_

_Sincerely,_

_Penelo_

Balthier and Fran live! Larsa will not be forced to declare a former judge dead after all. This news gladdens Basch – though he and Balthier never saw eye to eye, Basch held great respect for the sky pirate for his loyalty to Ashe when she was not even his monarch to defend.

Basch reads Penelo's short letter twice as Larsa steps over to the courtyard's pool. His eyes scan the page over and over, hungry for news of his friends and his princess, and he is fearful that he will miss something – any tiny piece of information about how they are.

How he misses Rabanastre.

_.. but I think she misses him_.

He reads the line again and again. Though he has vowed to himself not to contact Ashe, to let her move past him as painlessly as possible, it is hard for him to keep back a smile knowing that she may misses him, for he cannot keep her off his mind.

Gently, Basch settles his helm on the table and moves toward Larsa. It is hard to believe that a boy only now approaching his thirteenth birthday holds such power and wields it with such grace. Larsa has relied heavily on Basch and his guidance, and Basch has relied on the lessons he learned years ago while he looked after another young monarch.

Basch hands the young emperor his letter—though he knows he will later be plagued, trying to remember each word, and looks out over the city's rooftops.

"I have received some alarming news, Gabranth," Larsa says. It often bothers Basch that Larsa calls him by his judge's title, and a part of him wonders whether or not he is in denial over Noah's death. Basch says nothing – Larsa is young still, and though he makes an excellent and just emperor, he has much growing left. "It seems there is a new threat – someone wreaking havoc across Ivalice with intent to destroy our kingdoms, specifically Archades and Dalmasca."

Basch thinks of Ashe instantly. "What do you propose be done?"

"I suggest you make for Rabanastre without me and meet with Ashe. This Judge of Wings moves freely about the skies, and our airships are not as powerful as Dalmasca's Dreadnought Leviathan. I also fear she would be upset if we did not involve her."

_The ship Vossler died upon,_ Basch recalls. There are many times he wishes Vossler were with him – many times he would seek his friend's advice. _Perhaps she thought of this when she named it_.

"You would have me go to Ashe directly before her coronation?"

"I fear we cannot wait," Larsa says. He turns to Basch and looks up at him, still a fair foot and a half shorter than his guard. "This Judge of Wings' chosen guise – it does little to help Archadia. The people of Ivalice – indeed many in Archadia herself – already fear the judges enough. This false judge would damage our reputation even more."

Basch nods, understanding. His heart beats faster as he thinks of seeing Ashe again – faster in both excitement and fear of what will happen upon their meeting.

"Shall I send word to Rabanastre?"

"I have already seen to it," Larsa assures him. "We haven't the time to waste."

Basch looks out over the city again, past the gates and towards Dalmasca. _Home, _he thinks, _even if it is brief, I am going home to where Ashe is. _Basch has spent many an hour denying and burying the things he feels for her – the things he has always felt – and now he knows they will be pulled from the depths of his soul into the open once more.

And yet he looks forward to it, despite himself.

* * *

Ashe paces aboard the Dreadnought Leviathan, wringing her hands. Ten hours' warning. Ten hours! How could they have expected her to assemble a team for the ship, set her affairs in order for absence, and ready herself in _ten hours_?

She'd done it, of course, unwilling to let Basch think she could not handle things without him, but that was irrelevant. Ten hours would not be enough time for some other new queen.

But perhaps they knew it was enough for her.

"Are they here yet?" She snaps at one of her men at the helm. He jumps at her sudden outburst, which she regrets but cannot retract.

"They have landed, yes, but I have not yet received word that they have boarded the Leviathan."

Ashe growls to herself. She needn't have rushed so. Perhaps she could have delayed Larsa's mission, vague as it was in the message, for a night so she could see Basch and perhaps spend the evening with him before walking into danger's view.

_That would be a poor plan, _she reminds herself for the thousandth time. Yes, she longs to see Basch – she finds it difficult to believe he is alive and well without being able to see him and touch him – but she knows what heartache it invites.

_Nothing has changed_, she reminds herself. _They will come. I will aid them. We will go our separate ways again._

_Nothing has changed. _

She grips the railing of the bridge tightly in frustration. Though she appreciates the comfort of an honest bed, she finds waking up alone to a cold pillow to be very depressing. Al-Cid, during her recent visit to Rozarria, had suggested she consider marrying him and ally herself with his homeland.

She'd made no response. Ashe had been unable to. The idea was sound, and Al-Cid was quite witty and charming, but she could not convince herself to agree. Basch's voice kept echoing in her mind.

_Always my princess._

She looks down at the band on the middle finger of her left hand. After revealing that he was alive, Balthier had sent it back to her through Vaan. She'd spent an entire afternoon staring at it and smiling, remembering her knight and imagining him with her, then an entire evening

crying when she realized her daydreams were not, and could never be, real.

Still, she wears the ring, knowing Basch will see it immediately. She only wonders if he will smile or frown.

_He no longer wants me_, she tells herself. _It has been too long – no doubt he has found someone else. _

_Besides, he would never have been happy with me. Basch never did care much for politics._

"Lady Ashe." One of her soldiers calls for her.

Ashe turns and sees Judge Gabranth striding onto the bridge in full armor. His heavy footfalls echo across the cavernous room, now silenced by his presence. Ashe folds her arms across her midsection as she watches him take the stairs down to the level on which she stands. She will not meet him in the middle – will not run to him like a child.

Dalmascan queens do not greet Archadian judges with enthusiasm.

She would remain cold, indifferent to his presence, for it would be simpler than allowing herself to feel anything for him again, only to have him leave.

Basch is not to blame, but she must place her anger somewhere.

Instinctively, she fingers her ring. It offers her more confusion than comfort.

"Your majesty."

Even from inside his helmet, Basch's voice melts her. How many times did he comfort her by speaking quiet stories when she was a child? How many times did he assure her that all would right its self while they crossed Ivalice? How many times did he call her 'majesty' with a half-smirk to make her smile in mock contempt?

Did he wear the smile now? She cannot tell under the helm, and hearing Basch's voice, disembodied as it may be, sends shivers down her spine that she finds difficult to hide.

"Judge Magister Gabranth," she says. She offers no bow – Dalmascan queens do not bow to Archadian judges. "How good of you to alert us of this threat and offer your assistance."

Basch says nothing, and she wonders if her tone has hurt him. She hopes that somewhere, he understands how she has struggled with his absence. Perhaps he has felt the same things without her.

Perhaps he thinks of that one stolen moment aboard the Strahl as often as she does.

Finally, Basch speaks. "Lord Larsa sends his regards, and suggests we make for Lemurés."

"Lemurés?" Ashe's indifference falters at the word. "Lemurés is a myth that y—someone told me of a long time ago."

He knows what she meant to say. "A friend, perhaps?"

She remembers the bedtime stories of the sky continent where the Aegyl dwelled, cut off from the rest of the world and shielded by strong magicks. It was said to be a rich land and a goal of all sky pirates to plunder. Basch invented stories of Lemurés to entertain her as a child, but they were vague memories now.

She looks up at him, knowing they cannot speak freely here. She wonders if they can speak freely anywhere with all that stands between them.

For a few hours there were no barriers, distances or tensions between them, and though those hours were full of anxiety, grief and frustration, Ashe often wishes she could recapture that feeling that came with knowing Basch was with her, for better or worse.

"A guard," she replies, turning away from him as the Dreadnought Leviathan roars to life. "Just a guard."

* * *

The Paramina Rift its self invites unwanted memories, and the sight of the memorial for the fallen at Nalbina brings even more. Ashe stares at it – at her late husband's name – and tries to remember that it was more than three years ago. Seeing the memorial, though, and all the names it holds – too many – brings it all back to her, and she looks at Basch, who has learned to keep his distance.

In the days since they were reunited she has kept herself away from him, speaking as little as possible to him. Though she dreams of begging him to return to her service, she knows she cannot, for it would be unfair to both of them.

She cannot be weak in front of him and he cannot be honest with her, and Ashe abandons all hope.

But as she looks at him from the memorial, she remembers all he has done – the many times he protected her from foes, whether it be the monsters in her closet or the monsters in the Lhusu Mines. She remembers the sacrifices he has made for her and how he could have been one of the names on the memorial under her hand.

Her cloak whips around her in a violent wind as she stares at him. She has seen his face many times since they were reunited, but she had avoided meeting his eyes on each occasion.

Despite the cold and the biting wind, Basch unlatches his helmet and removes it, as they are among only friends now. He meets her eyes for the first time in a year and her breath catches in her throat, remembering how he looked at her while she took a dagger to his brow.

Why has she not cherished him while she could? Why has she not thanked the powers above every day that he survived Nabudis, unlike the men whose names rest on the memorial before her?

Noah Gabranth is trusted by many in his Archadian duties, and Basch fon Ronsenberg was trusted by even more before his treachery and execution. Neither trusted many in return, and those they did trust were out of necessity.

Basch never _needed_ to trust Ashe with more than her abilities as a princess, but as he looks across the snow at her, she sees reliance and confidence muddled in pain. He has trusted her not only with his honor, as she is the only person who can restore his identity, but with something more – something far more precious that she cannot identify – something akin to his heart.

Something she does not feel safe holding, but that she treasures all the same.

There is an understanding there between them, so close to the place where she risked her life for him – an understanding that nothing has changed at all, that they are separated as they were before she married Rasler, and that their connection – that deep rooted, intense something that has always existed between them – has not been severed – that it never could be.

There is an understanding that it is distance and circumstance that are the foes between them.

Ashe moves towards him, unsure of what to say or do, but needing to be close to where he is while she can be, before that great Garuda of time rises behind him to separate them once more.

"She's here!"

Vaan, who stands atop a large boulder, points towards the path as it winds up into the mountains and out of sight. Ashe follows his line of vision to the place where the Judge of Wings stands, her armor gleaming in the day's dying light.

Basch, unbidden, draws his sword and rushes to confront her. His feet slip on the ice, but the momentum he creates from determination carries him up the hill to meet the Judge of Wings halfway as she descends.

"Basch!" Ashe screams for him, wanting him to return to where he was, close enough to be protected and aided by the party. Penelo screams as Basch calls back to her.

"I will deal with her, Highness."

He raises his Archadian sword high as he meets her, but is crippled by a rush of energy that flows forth from the Judge, seeping from the gaps in her armor and into the rift. The light, pink in hue, brings Basch to his knees, and Ashe begins to rush after him, to defend him as he has defended her.

Balthier catches her around the waist quickly, lifting her from her feet as she struggles with him. She screams Basch's name again as the pirate grips her, holding her tight. She struggles to break his hold, and nearly succeeds until Vaan steps in, adding his strong arms to her restraints.

"Your majesty," Balthier yells over her cries. "You musn't! Basch can -"

"She will kill him!" Ashe's pretenses of formality and femininity die as she yells for Basch again, her eyes wild with a raw, fierce energy. _Why does he not move? _She asks, the question loud in her mind, _why does he not rise?_

"She may, but we cannot risk getting too close to that energy." Ashe's struggle slows as she realizes Balthier is right, but her heart still beats wildly in her chest. As he speaks Ashe begins to see a disturbance in the air before them – a barrier – but is it meant to keep them away or Basch contained?

Her knight – her man – sits prostrate at the feet of one who would see him dead for his involvement in a war over which he had no control – a war that he was willing to fight because of her – his Dalmasca.

"You are a false Judge!" The Judge of Wings' voice is magnified. It echoes around the rift, threatening to bring down the snow from the highest peaks. "You fanned war's flame, only then to heel like the cur you are before the throne of Empire!"

Basch looks up at her, rising to his knees again. The force of her power keeps him from rising still, but he has the strength to look at her – to grasp his weapon. He cannot risk the Judge passing him to reach Ashe. He cannot allow her to reach the places in Ivalice that he has sworn to protect.

He cannot fail her again – not here where he has failed her before.

From the ground around him rise two creatures the likes of which he has never seen before. They are hume and skeletal – dead for all appearances, save for that they move. Decaying, gray flesh hangs from their bones, torn and worn like clothing. They wear odd, broken pieces of armor that Basch recognizes as Dalmascan.

The men from Nabudis.

"No!" Basch forces himself to his feet, striking down his former comrades in their grotesque, animated state. He looks up to the Judge, his eyes darkened by something he has never felt before – the notion that he stands before pure and unadulterated evil.

Landis did not take kindly to necromancy – its practice was cause for immediate execution.

More undead soldiers rise from the ground, animated by the judge. Basch swings his sword at the first to approach him, slicing it through the chest, and watches as it crumbles to the ground, reduced to dust.

_I must return them to their deaths,_ he thinks. Memories of the night Dalmasca and Nabradia lost their sovereignty spring unbidden into his mind as he dispatches the others who surround him. In a brief reprieve, he looks to the Judge, gasping for air.

"The dead will find no release in blood!" he cries. His voice, strengthened by anger and grief carries through the rift to Ashe, whose tears have frozen on her cheeks.

She sees what he fights – knows what he feels. Those are the bodies of the dead who fought for Dalmasca's freedom – for her kingdom, her legacy and her homeland. She screams again for Basch, rendered motionless by horror and Balthier's unrelenting hold.

"Perhaps I am no true judge –" Basch slices through another listless attacker, "but the future is built on more that has passed."

He moves through another line of the undead, reducing them to diamond dust that glitters as it falls into the snow, and finds himself in front of the Judge herself, so close that he can feel the cold emanating from her heart.

"A man whose gaze bends ever back cannot hope to find his way forward."

_Noah's words_. More of the undead rise and approach him, forcing him back from the judge. He turns his feet, grinding them into the snow, and allows the ice beneath to help him slide further back from her as he raises his sword to those dead infantrymen who approach.

"You would bind yourself to these illusions – to the fallen!" He begins to send the restless dead back to their graves with broad strokes of his sword, feeling the muscles of his shoulders tense and untense with each motion. "I will cut you free of those bonds!"

Three of the gray corpses stand between him and the judge, and with a cry he rushes towards them, taking all three in one motion, and raising his sword to the judge.

"There is no justice in revenge."

He lunges at the Judge, his strike perfectly aimed, but finds himself cutting only through the thin air. The Judge of Wings has teleported away, leaving them with only the undead moving down through the pass from the north.

Basch turns and sees Balthier restraining Ashe. Only now does he understand her screams, distorted by the judge's barrier and the sounds that echoed in the mountains. They were for him – fear for him.

The foes will meet her before he can, so he begins to rush down the slope towards them, watching as she, Vaan, Balthier and Fran ready their weapons for the coming battle. He reaches them just as the soldiers do, and as he rushes in front of Ashe he sees the terror written on her face, though she grips her sword steadily.

He will fulfill his oath to her for this one day. He will keep her safe from these figures from their shared path and cherish the opportunity to honor the vows he made at her feet years ago.

* * *

The undead were not those who died in the war, they later realized. They were Yahri summoned to fulfill the Judge's quest for revenge for the war that took her love.

Back aboard the Leviathan, Basch washes the sweat from his face in the washroom. He has not yet taken the time to remove his armor – his hands are not yet steady enough to handle the buckles.

He sees them everywhere, the rotting faces of his comrades, and though he knows it was not they who attacked him in the rift, it was their faces those beings wore, and it is enough to shake him to his core.

There is a small, faint knock at his door – the knock of someone who would not disturb him, and Basch limps towards it, his leg aching from the day's exertion – a reminder that he is not as young as he used to be.

When he opens the door, he is not surprised to see Ashe before him, dressed in a sleeping gown and wrapped in a robe. The rest of the ship, save for the necessary crew, has gone to bed. Basch had remained active late into the night to aid in the course setting, but he'd expected Ashe and their allies to have been long since asleep.

He does not know if it is proper to invite her into his quarters, but he does it anyway, and she slips in silently. He notices that she keeps her arms tightly wrapped around herself, as though she is trying to take up as little space as possible, and he senses her fear and disturbance.

"Are you well, majesty?"

Ashe looks up to him, but not at him, confirming that he had not imagined what had passed between them before the Judge of Wings made her appearance. It is a relief to him, though he regrets reopening these wounds to hurt her again.

"I wanted to check on you," she lies. "You fought hard today. Surely you are hurt."

"I assure you, I am well."

Basch steps away, only to find that his leg is still stiff. His balance falters and he grasps a nearby chair for balance.

"You've lied to me, Basch."

He cringes at the sound of his name coming from her lips. She has not called him by his proper name, save for the screams in the rift (the volume of which, a part of him believes, may have been what awakened the dead).

"And you have kept me at a distance."

"Have I any other choice?" Her voice shakes and Basch knows that tears are far behind – the kind he cannot stop because he is the cause. "How can I stay close to you, knowing what can never be with you in Archades and I in Rabanastre?"

"I understand, majesty."

"I am not _majesty_," she corrects. He looks to her in the dim light and catches the glimmer of a tear that he dare not wipe away. "I am your _princess. _Have you forgotten?"

She holds out her hand, and he sees the ring on her hand. He smiles, though he had noticed it before. He knew Balthier would return it, but he'd doubted she would wear it again.

"I could never forget."

Silence falls between them and Ashe notices that he still wears Gabranth's costume. "You must be exhausted, carrying all of that metal around."

"I am fine." Ashe knows he would not tell her if he was nearly dead from the heat in that suit – he would not want to worry her. She sighs and steps forward, beginning to work at the laces and buckles that held him captive.

Basch raises his hand to hers at his side, stopping her. She looks up at him in confusion. He'd never stopped her from touching him before, though he'd never directly invited it either. Basch had always let her do what she wanted, and let her make him carry out her wishes. He never asked for anything of her other than her happiness.

_Never_.

"You must be so tired."

He cannot hide that he is, nor that he has been shaken by the event in the rift. High above the clouds in the Leviathan, he is as far away from it as he can hope to get, but those faces, skeletal bodies and broken armor…

He cannot ban the images from his mind.

He would tell her he was exhausted, barely able to stand, dead on his feet. He would ask her to please, help him from his armor, to wrap his sore muscles in warm cloths and stay with him while he slept. He would tell her to sleep beside him and to be his blanket, for he has not felt warm and safe since he left for Archades – he only feels safe beside her, a distinct violation of his knight's vows. He should be ever vigilant near her, prepared to protect her at a moment's notice of danger, and yet it is only in her presence that he can drop his guard and let himself feel human.

But he cannot tell her these things, no matter how he wishes he could. He can only look at her and hope she understands all the things he would say if he could.

Ashe sees the tiredness in his eyes – the pain that wears him thin, and does not wait for an invitation. She feels his hand loosen over hers and slowly she starts to work at his armor again. She works precisely, careful of any bruises or injuries he may carry.

"What is wrong with your leg?" she asks.

"I am old," he tells her with a half-chuckle, "I do not recover as I did when I was… well, your age."

Ashe smiles and leads him to the bed, gesturing for him to lay back on it. He does as he is told – he always does – and she sits beside him, working him free of his leg armor. When it comes free, over his right leg, she sees a deep, purple bruise spreading over his thigh. It is ugly and painful looking, causing her own leg to ache at the thought of owning such an injury.

"I often feel older than I am," Ashe admits. "The simplest meetings and functions exhaust me… I suppose that is a hazard of my role."

Basch says nothing as she leaves him. He leans back against the pillows and closes his eyes – sleep instantly reaches for him, trying to pull him under. In the darkness he sees shadows of the undead, and though he would open his eyes and banish them with light, he cannot. His eyes will not open.

He breathes deep and slow, unrestricted by his Archadian prison. He knows he should feel embarrassed – being in such a state before a queen is quite improper, as he wears only his undershirt and the long shorts that protect him from the rough canvas that lay between him and the armor.

When Ashe returns, he smiles at the feeling of her weight shifting the mattress beneath him. She sits beside him, at his knees, and he feels a near-scalding hot cloth come to cover his leg. He jolts a bit at the heat and opens his eyes just a bit to look at her.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes, but presses the cloth to the bruise anyway. He cringes at the pain – the feeling of the heat seeping through his skin to the muscle wound so tightly that it protests movement – but then he adjusts and he feels it begin to relax. The pain dissolves into a dull ache – something far more manageable.

Ashe draws her legs up underneath her, realizing that she has not been so physically close to anyone in a year. Yes, she has hugged Penelo, Vaan, and others whom she has cared for, but it lasts only a moment and never long enough for her to feel that she has made any real connection with anyone.

It is impossible not to feel something pass between herself and Basch.

"You needn't tend to me, your majesty."

"Yes, I do need to."

He will not argue, for he does not want her to leave. He would have her stay beside him until the world ceased to be and Ivalice crumbled into the depths of time and space.

"Does it feel better?" She runs the cloth, now slightly cooled, over the bruise again.

"It does." Basch moves to sit up a bit – to not feel so weak – but Ashe presses against his shoulder, pushing him back into the pillows.

"You should rest."

"As should you."

Ashe says nothing and looks down at her hands, folded in her lap. "Would you mind… if I stayed here with you?"

He looks up at her, surprised that she would suggest such a thing, but he knows she must have been disturbed as he was by the undead walking the rift. She cannot be a queen tonight, just as he cannot be a knight. She can only be a young woman, frightened by the coming nightmares, and he can only be a man who can hold her and tell her it will be alright.

He nods, and Ashe hangs the cloth over the metal post at the head of the bed. She speaks not a word as she sips from her robe and lets it fall to the floor. Basch sits up and seizes the blanket folded at the foot of the bed and draws it up over them, making sure Ashe is covered.

He wraps his arms around her, feeling how she fits beside him like the missing piece of a puzzle. He strokes her hair lightly, absently, and listens to her breathe against him, comfortable in knowing that she is safe beside him.

"Will you have nightmares?" he asks. As a child, Ashe knew when a night would be rough.

She shakes her head and turns her face against him a bit, closing her eyes. "No. There is no safer place than at your side."

He tightens his hold on her, feeling a rush of affection towards her. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, breathing her in, grateful that he will get this one evening by her side.

She lays at his side, her bare legs tangled in his, knowing that the night will end and they will return to their guises – the masks they both wear.

But for now, she can rest her head on his chest, close her eyes and listen to his heartbeat and be grateful that his was not one of the names on the memorial.


	18. Plans

**Plans**

The atrium of Rabanastre's royal palace is cavernous and vast, stretching across a third of the palace's ground floor. Two staircases stretch up high to the second floor, winding along the curved walls, lined with banners bearing Dalmasca's coat of arms that shimmer as a breeze floats in through the line of columns that open into the formal courtyard. The marble floor emanates an ethereal glow from the moon, which has settled herself high and full in the clear night sky to flow into the lobby where Ashe sits on the steps, slumped against the railing.

Her day had been unusually long. She'd gone to the normal Tuesday morning meetings, had lunch with Balthier and Fran, and then spent the afternoon with the Rozarrian ambassador – a distinctly unpleasant man of seventy-two whose breath was so foul that Ashe had felt she would lose her lunch.

She awaits the Archadian ambassador in the middle of the night, having received word that they'd incurred some sort of delay. The guards had offered to wait – to sacrifice their evenings – but Ashe would not hear of it. She was restless anyway, she told them, and would rather await a retiring judge – surely the elderly Zargabaath, for he was the only Judge Magister to survive to retirement – herself than spend the evening reading mindless novels.

The new embassies had been completed a month ago – an idea of Larsa's that he'd voiced three years ago while they'd been aboard the Dreadnought Leviathan. They had been bound towards Rabanastre when he settled himself atop a railing on the bridge between herself and Basch.

* * *

"_Lady Ashe," Larsa says, his small legs swinging a bit. He holds on tightly to the bar with both hands as he looks at her. "I believe you and I should discuss something."_

_Ashe smiles at his childish posture, amused as always by how his mannerisms do not match his high maturity level._

"_Yes?"_

"_I believe the construction of embassies in each of our capitols would be advantageous. The ambassadors would help keep peace between our nations, and as travel is more fluid now, I believe the system would work."_

"_Have you spoken to Al-Cid about this, or any of the other Margrace family members?"_

"_Not yet. I wished to know if you agreed before I approached them. It is your opinion that I value more."_

_Larsa loses his balance and slips from the bar. He is not given the chance to fall, as Basch catches him with one hand to the boy's back as though he'd been expecting the imbalance all along._

"_Thank you, Gabranth." Basch is often disturbed by Larsa's insistence at calling him by his judge's name, even when it is not necessary. He is concerned the boy remains unwilling to accept that Noah, whom he had cared for and respected, was dead. Indeed, it would be easy to ignore the truth with his former guard's twin ever present._

_Basch would express this concern to Ashe – look at her with worry he knows she would understand – but he wears his helm, since they are among the crew, many of whom were soldiers of Dalmasca from his time with the military. _

"_I think it would be a good idea," Ashe says. To spite Basch, she sits up on the railing beside Larsa, remembering how he would never let her slide down the banisters of the palace as a child. She gives him a smirk, and she knows that behind the metal he is glaring at her. "If nothing else, it shows the good faith between our three nations. The ambassadors would become citizens of the cities to which they are assigned."_

"_I believe Al-Cid is the Margrace we would need to speak with."_

"_And you would have me do it?"_

_Larsa smiles at her knowingly. "You are far more persuasive than I."_

"_It is very true," Basch speaks, and it is Ashe's turn to glare at him, though she does not __mean a bit of it. It has been two weeks since the incident in the Paramina Rift – since they reconciled – and they have spent each evening laying chastely in each other's arms. Late each night, Ashe finds some excuse to leave her room for Basch's, and each night he lets her in and she falls asleep curled up at his side. The tension is there, as it always has been, but it is more tolerable now when their options are so limited._

_Before there was a chance at something more than friendship. Now the walls have been rebuilt and the limits are known._

"_It would take far more than a year in Rabanastre," Ashe tells Larsa._

"_We shall discuss it after your coronation. There will be time, yes?"_

"_I certainly hope so."

* * *

_

Ashe smiles on the steps, remembering the time aboard the Leviathan and the few days following, when Larsa and Basch had stayed in Rabanastre for her coronation. She'd done her best to let Basch enjoy being home, but she'd been busy for much of his stay. Still, she'd found one evening she could escape and steal him from watching Larsa.

* * *

_Ashe walks toward Larsa's door, clad in riding pants, boots, and the loosest shirt she can find. Her involvement with the people of Rabanastre has left her face easily recognizable by most of the people, so she's decided to forego any makeup and remain as plain as possible. Her hat dangles from her fingers as she walks up the guest hallway, feeling as though she is sixteen again and ready to beg Basch to take her out of the palace._

_It is hard to believe that was seven years ago. _

_She knocks on the door and folds her hands behind her back. She listens to the hard stamping of sabatons on the floor and the clanging of metal plates as they collided on a man's body. Basch opens the door in his armor and looks at her from inside the Judge's helmet._

"_Lady Ashe?"_

_Ashe slipped past him, under his arm, into Larsa's room. "Lord Larsa," she said, bowing to him as a pageboy would. Larsa laughed at her antics from the edge of his bed where he was seated. "May I borrow your guard for the evening?"_

"_Why?" Larsa is suddenly apprehensive, but Ashe trusts that he only wants to know._

"_Well, I want to show him some things around the city that have changed. Perhaps I could find you someone to spend some time with?"_

_Penelo slips in past Basch and waves at Larsa good naturedly. Ashe knew that Larsa had been disappointed by Penelo's budding romance with Vaan, but she hoped Larsa and Penelo could remain friends – Penelo had so enjoyed her correspondence with him._

_Larsa smiles and slides down from the bed and approaches Penelo. He kisses her hand – the well trained gentleman that he is – and Penelo smiles at him. Tshey are nearly the same height now – Larsa will soon be taller than Ashe, a prospect that makes Ashe feel ever older._

"_I thought maybe you would enjoy seeing the city and the places I grew up. Not exactly fit for an emperor, but you've never minded the dirt before."_

"_Penelo, I would be delighted."_

_Larsa moves to escort her from the room, but Basch places his hand on the boy's chest and removes his helm. "You should change into something less… opulent."_

_Larsa looks down at his clothes. He'd been to the precoronation dinner an hour prior, and the vest he wore was lined with golden cord. He blushes and smiles at Penelo sheepishly. "Just a moment?"_

_She nods and steps outside with Basch and Ashe to let Larsa change. Penelo looks up at Basch. "Do you know how scary you are in that armor?"_

_Basch says nothing for a long moment and simply looks at her. Ashe loves Penelo, dearly, __and the girl has become her best female friend, but her honesty and naïveté often lead her to say things better left unsaid._

"_I suppose that is the purpose of the armor," Basch says to her, "to be frightening and intimidating."_

"_I-I didn't mean it that way," Penelo said. She looked horrified at what she had said, and Ashe cannot help laughing a bit. "I just meant that… well, it just doesn't look appropriate for someone who knows _you_."_

_Basch smiles at her – he has always liked Penelo with her innocence and tenacity. He often thinks that she is much like who Ashe would be had she not been born a royal, though Penelo lacks Ashe's fearless spirit._

"_I understand Penelo. You have not offended me."_

_Larsa emerges quickly, dressed in a simple pair of slacks, boots, and a blue shirt. Ashe is certain that he normally wears these as underclothes, but he will blend in better. He is Archadian, and though he is powerful, his face is not well known._

_He is as anonymous here as she is in his city._

"_Shall we?"_

_Larsa offers his arm to Penelo, and as they walk away, a part of Ashe is saddened that Vaan has captured the girl's affections. Larsa has lost so much – the least the fates could give him is the girl that he fancies. _

_But the fates are not fair. The armor Basch wears beside her is proof of that._

_Ashe looks to him as Larsa and Penelo disappear around the corner._

"_You should change."_

"_I will be recognized."_

"_Nonesense," Ashe says. She walks to Basch's door beside Larsa's room and opens it, walking in. She finds his bag laying on the floor and digs out a shirt – she has always liked dark green on him – and a pair of tan pants. She shakes out the wrinkles in them and holds them out to him, struck by the domesticity of the action._

_It is so simple – something she could do every day for him without complaint, for she knows what it feels like to manage the world without him._

_Basch hesitates and only takes them from her when she refuses to relent. "Someone will see me."_

"_It's been three years, Basch." It feels strange saying it now – letting the length of time since his 'execution' occurred out into the open. "Your hair is shorter and you have that scar… someone may look twice, but no one will recognize you."_

_He does not believe her, but her hopeful eyes convince him to go along with her. Together, they remove his armor as they have every night since the Paramina Rift. He wonders how he will again battle his way from the metal plates without her help. _

_As he changes, Ashe leans over the dresser to look in the mirror. She carefully tucks her hair up under the hat – the same one she has been using for years – and checks to make sure no wisps of it escape from under the band. She turns and looks at Basch, who is busy buttoning up his shirt. He pays her no attention as he sits down on the bed and pulls on his boots._

_Ashe watches, fixated, as he adjusts the laces one by one. His fingers move so quickly, so precisely, that it seem unnatural. Basch always did have graceful hands – she remembered when he would color with her on her bedroom floor, how his massive hands would cradle a fragile crayon and create a crisp landscape in minutes while she drew stick-figure chocobos._

"_Are you ready?" he asks as he stands up. He looks at her and grins, shaking his head a bit. "Of course you are. You and that hat."_

"_What's wrong with my hat?" Ashe asked, mocking offense._

"_You are queen now. I would assume you would get a new hat, even if it is for disguising __yourself."_

"_I like this hat," she tells him, "I stole it from Vossler before he left me and you became my guard." _

_He chuckles a bit and they walk out into the palace, and then into the city they have both loved for so long.

* * *

_

Ashe sighs and closes her eyes, remembering that evening. Though they'd spent time together on the Leviathan, there was a sense of levity – of relaxation and timelessness that night – the eve of her coronation. It would change little politically, but to her it would be a milestone – a marker of growing up all over again, after becoming a widow.

They'd wound through the city streets, for all appearances just a businessman and a pageboy, looking at things in the shops and talking about happier times. They passed by the fountain where Basch had found Percival and stopped at the Bahamut where Ashe tried not to listen as Basch whispered a quiet prayer for his brother.

Eventually, they found themselves at the edge of the city where the graveyard lay. As Ashe thinks about it she can feel the warmth of his hand in hers as they walked through the gate into the cemetery.

* * *

_The Azelas tomb is one of the largest structures in the burial ground, and when Ashe and Basch approach it, it is difficult for them not to stand in awe of the mausoleum its self, with its high columns and stone birds poised to take flight, forever hindered by the tomb they are affixed to. Basch squeezes Ashe's hand tightly as he feels her composure begin to drop. She leans into his side, lacing her fingers with his, as they regard the stone marker at the front of the tomb. It bears the names of all the Azelas family members who are enshrined here._

_Vossler's name is the last on the tablet, which has room for three more names that will never be added. Vossler was the last Azelas, and Ashe will forever regret letting him risk his life and end one of Dalmasca's most respected family lines._

"_There was no body," Basch says quietly. "What is here of is?"_

"_His armor. He would not wear the armor he wore at Nalbina, so he set it aside upon his return. I… I laid it in the tomb myself." Her hands shake with the memory of the Azelas remains laying on their stone ledges, wrapped in their shrouds. "There was no one else to do it. No one left who cared enough."_

"_I should have been here." There is a bitter edge to Basch's voice, and Ashe turns her face against his hard bicep. "I should have done it myself, or at least with you."_

"_It is alright," she assures him. "I paid Vossler the respect he was due and made certain that his service to Dalmasca was recorded. His name was never tarnished."_

"_He thought that he was doing the right thing. He would have done anything at all to see the name Dalmasca restored."_

"_He was a good knight."_

"_He was a good friend."_

_They stand there for a long time, thinking of their fallen friend and feeling renewed gratitude for their lives. Eventually, Basch turns and kisses her forehead, reminds her that she has a long day ahead, and they walk back through the empty streets of Rabanastre and go to their separate beds.

* * *

_

If they hadn't had that night, Ashe wonders if the incident the following evening would have happened. After the coronation and the formal reception, Ashe was able to enjoy the company of her close friends in the private, more intimate setting of her courtyard. She'd stationed guards at each entrance to keep them secluded, and finally she, Penelo, Vaan, Al-Cid, Larsa, Balthier and Fran were able to speak freely. Several of the Margraces, Archadian senators and Dalmascan dignitaries attended as well, but the table by the fountain was full of those Ashe cared for most – an event so unlikely that she felt quite fortunate to have been blessed with it.

Basch was confined to his armor and opted to remain separated, standing at the side to watch over Larsa. Ashe remembers how she felt his eyes on her the entire evening, and how she hadn't minded it at all until Al-Cid had spoken.

* * *

"_My lady." Al-Cid stood from the table and raised his wine glass, indicating that he intended to make a toast. Ashe had thought they were past this – the formalities and rules, but Al-Cid Margrace had never been known to pass up an opportunity to use his charm and wit on anyone of power. Ashe's guests at her table all stopped speaking respectfully and looked up to the handsome Rozarrian._

'_This must be an important event,' Ashe thinks snidely as she watches him brush back his hair dramatically. 'He has deigned to remove his sunglasses.'_

_Ashe smiles at him warmly, knowing that Al-Cid only means well. What he lacks in modesty and social skills, he makes up for in political fairness. _

_In the distance, Judge Gabranth folds his arms, and when Ashe glances at him, she can almost see the contempt on Basch's face through the helmet._

"_Queen, Ashe – in the past year you have proven yourself worthy of any praise given to a ruler." His accent, though beautiful, makes his words sound condescending to Ashe's ears. "Your beauty and grace in the restoration of Dalmasca has been unwavering. During your visit to Rozarria, you and I spoke of the alliance between our two nations, and tonight I ask you to make that alliance formal."_

_Ashe's eyes widen in fear and she silently begs all the gods she knows of to keep Al-Cid from kneeling before her…_

_But it would seem not even Faram can keep Al-Cid from doing what he wants. He kneels beside her, his motions so fluid and smooth that they are near lethal, and Ashe looks at him, her smile shaking._

"_Lady Ashe, tonight I would ask you to be my wife."_

_Penelo, for all her kindness and self-control, cannot suppress an ill-timed snort of shock and amusement, for Ashe had discussed Al-Cid's earlier advances with her, and the two had found them to be both worrisome and comical. Penelo covers her mouth quickly, and Ashe hears her take in a deep breath to hold, as the table has fallen silent as death at Al-Cid's proposal._

"_My Lord, I –"_

"_Please, no formalities."_

_Ashe's eye twitches in annoyance. It is not his place to make such demand in her palace – her home._

"_I am not prepared to remarry at this time. Perhaps at a later –"_

_Al-Cid is on his feet before she can finish her sentence, and Ashe has no choice but to rise and meet his eyes. She will not be weak enough to stay seated while he berates her in any kind of anger._

"_Is there someone you wish to tell us about?"_

"_No, your grace –"_

"_Then why do you deny me?"_

"_As I said, I am simply not prepared to remarry."_

_Al-Cid narrows his eyes and Ashe meets his gaze with determination. She folds her arm across her midsection, and looks at him, daring him to push the matter further. Behind him, she sees Basch take a step forward, but he can do nothing from inside his barless cage._

"_Then my leave, I take."_

"_You don't have to go," Ashe says, instinctively reaching forward for his hand – she never did like it when those she cared for were angry with her. _

"_Ah, but I do." He withdraws his sunglasses from his pocket and slides them on. "I shall see you in Archadia for Lord Larsa's birthday."_

_And with that, he strode from the courtyard and from their sight, leaving Ashe stunned and gaping after him._

"_Well," Larsa finally said. "That was certainly…"_

"_Don't, Larsa," Vaan says. Ashe does not look at him, but she does not need to. His stifled laughter is clear in his voice._

_Ashe looks up at Basch, but he remains motionless – a statue at the entrance to the castle – but she knows he stares back.

* * *

_

On the stairs, Ashe closes her eyes, remembering the knock on her door that came late at night, long after was proper and acceptable. She'd known it would be him – known the pattern of how he knocked on her door – known he would want to speak on Al-Cid's plans for her.

Even now, the fierceness on his face moves her to tears.

* * *

_Basch strides past her into the room, not waiting for an invitation as he has done only once before – the night before her wedding. She closes the door quietly behind him as the hangings that lead to her balcony flutter into the room in the midnight wind. She had not bothered changing from her clothes – instead she'd waited for him, stretched out across her bed, staring out into the night sky._

"_What was that about?" he asks, his voice rough. Ashe raises her eyebrows at him._

"_Al-Cid believes that a marriage would strengthen the bond between Dalmasca and Rozarria. He offers his empire's protection in turn for my hand."_

"_Why did you decline?"_

_He stalks away from her to the window, folding his arms. He has removed his upper armor and left himself in only his lower protectives and a black undershirt. The sight is somehow beautiful to her – Basch both as a knight and in disarray – it is something she has never seen before. She sits down on her bed, looking at him as she speaks._

"_I am not prepared to remarry."_

"_That is what you would tell them," he says. His jaw is set firmly, aligning all the bones and muscles in his face. She looks at him in profile, marveling at how the moon's silver light washes over his face, illuminating the planes of his cheeks, the curves under his eyes and the line that runs from his forehead to his chin. Her eyes falter over his lips, and she thinks of that one kiss for the tenth time that day. "What is your honest reason?"_

"_I do not love him."_

"_You once told me that love is not a factor in marriages for monarchs."_

"_It is," she replies calmly, "when the person in question loves someone else."_

_Basch grimaces and turns from her, stepping away with his arms folded across his chest. She knows what he thinks – that she is tossing away any chance at happiness, or even at political gain, for his sake – for a man who can never love her openly, and she knows that this is true._

_There is nothing else she would do – no man she would humor at night, no husband she would take save for the one man she cannot have._

"_Why do you do this to yourself? To Dalmasca, who needs a king?"_

"_Dalmasca needs no king. My father ruled for many years alone and I shall rule for many years longer in solitude than he did."_

_Basch turns to her, and she can see the frustration in the lines of his face – lines that are slowly becoming permanent with each passing year. She draws her legs up beneath her and folds her hands in her lap, waiting for the outburst to follow._

"_You cannot do this, Ashe. Not for me."_

"_This is not about you. It is about me."_

_Basch narrows his eyes, daring to be angry with her, crossing a line he has never crossed before._

"_It is about you and I and things that never should have happened. Things that never should have come to be between us."_

"_You would trade it?" she asks. Even in the moment, she is surprised by her calm. After years of arguing, she knows Basch can remain angry with her no better than she can remain angry with him. "You would trade what we have?"_

"_We have nothing!" Ashe starts at his changed tone. Basch has never yelled at her directly, and she suddenly feels like a child being scolded by her father. "There is nothing here! There cannot be!"_

"_Because of your rules?"_

"_Because of 'the' rules!" _

"_Then why are you so impassioned?" she asks. "What has you so angry about Al-Cid's proposal?"_

"_That you refused it when you clearly have a friendship with him and it would benefit Dalmasca."_

"_Really?" Ashe does not believe him. She knows better – knows how he would stroke her hair long after he thought she'd fallen asleep beside him on the Leviathan until only a few days prior, how he'd always watched her so closely to keep her safe. She does not believe him._

"_Yes." He sounds uncertain now and clenches his jaw tightly, as though fighting something – some pain ignored for too long._

_Ashe stares at him, disbelieving, and watches as he tries to contain himself. No, they may never be more than what they are now, but that does not mean there is nothing between them._

_Finally, she speaks._

"_If there is nothing between us, then leave. The good of Dalmasca is not your concern."_

_Her words stun him. His mask of calm falls and his arms fall to his sides. "I suppose it is not, but relations between –"_

"_It does not matter. You said it yourself – we have nothing. None of the time we have spent together, from the time I was five until last night, has meant anything."_

_He falls silent, taking a few cautious steps towards her. She looks up into his pale eyes – so familiar, but always so captivating – as he reaches her side._

"_You know that is not true."_

"_What angers you about Al-Cid's proposal?"_

_Jealousy? Anger? Fear that she would take another? Basch does not know – the words escape him. He looks down at her, so small and so strong, kneeling on the bed that threatens to swallow her. He stares at her, the way her hair catches the light – the way her skin keeps its color, even when washed in moonlight._

"_I cannot bear the thought of you with him," he whispers finally. Ashe turns to him and raises her hands to rest on his shoulders. _

"_I would give anything to change this," she says. The curtains are pushed into the room with another gust of wind, and they reach Basch's neck, brushing at the flesh there and making him shiver, or is it the feeling of her hands at his collar that break him?_

_He feels her finger trace his jaw and closes his eyes. They have been closer than ever lately, sleeping in the same bed – him changing from his armor into clothes in front of her – her letting him treat wounds on her back with only a blanket to preserve her modesty, but as she touches his face now there is a tenderness he has never felt before, even as a teenager in the throes of what he thought was love._

'_No,' he thinks, 'this is it, wrong as it may be.'_

_He does not know how it happens, who moves first, but he finds himself kissing her. It is slow __at first, intimate and careful, as though it was their first. He remembers the feeling of her hands on his tender scalp aboard the Strahl and the way her arms had held fast to him when he'd stumbled with her into the door. _

_This time he can think of more than their coming separation and his brother's death. This time they have time, limited as it may be. He raises his hand to her face and runs his fingers back through her hair from her temple, holding her tighter with his free arm. He feels her arms – so thin and delicate – slide around his neck – feels her fingers on the sensitive spot at the nape of his neck._

_He pulls her closer, something growing inside his chest as he kisses her harder, faster, and with abandon. She pulls him tighter to her, and he finds himself moving toward her on the bed, despite his armor. Basch kneels before her, taking in a deep, shuddering breath as she bites at his jaw. She climbs onto his lap and his hands find the hem of her skirt, pushing it up to feel the soft skin of her legs._

_Her lips find his again and he cannot breathe for fear of interrupting this – even air is not as important as the feeling she gives him as she runs her hands under his shirt and over his back, finding his angel bones and tracing them with her fingertips._

_Her name escapes his lips and he feels her smile as she kisses him again, reaching for the belt that holds together his armor._

'_This is wrong,' he thinks as he feels her hands on his abdomen, touching the lines that the weight of his uniform maintain. 'Stop, stop…"_

_He cannot, and he turns his attention to her throat, tasting her skin, feeling her lean back in his arms and breathe deeply, taking in the feeling of him against her. _

_But it is wrong. _

"_Ashe…" He pulls back from her, stopping their kisses though it pains him to do so. He looks up at her, keeping his arms locked tight around her waist. She looks down at him, knowing what comes next._

"_I know," she whispers, running her finger over the scar above his eye. "I know."_

_He sighs and buries his face against her shoulder, holding her and letting her hold him._

_He stays with her until night turns to day, and then leaves for Archadia once more.

* * *

_

Ashe leans back on the steps, enjoying the silence of the atrium. It invites memories, both happy and unhappy, for Ashe to lose herself in. She remembers how Basch had stolen away from his duty to swim with her after Larsa's birthday party. She remembers each of her visits to Archadia and each of Larsa's to Dalmasca and how they had granted her with time to spend with Basch. She recalls how each time they'd spent every moment possible together, and how each time they'd had the same desperate discussion upon their departure.

* * *

"_Ashe," Basch says, "if you were to meet someone, do not feel that I would fault you. I will love you as I always have."_

_Ashe always kisses him at these words and runs her delicate fingers over the nape of his neck. "And I would not fault you."_

_He kisses her again and holds her tight before releasing her for the last time._

"_You will always be my princess."

* * *

_

She thinks of all the letters locked in her desk written on Judge Magister Gabranth's stationery – one for every week of the last three years – detailing his life in Arcadia. She knows he has kept all of her letters, and they have grown more precious in the past six months – the longest separation they have endured since being reunited by Judge Ghis.

Ashe stares up at the high ceiling of the palace, kicking off her shoes and listening as they fall down a few steps from where she lays. The sharp sound brings her back to reality where she is alone in the palace. It is a sensation akin to being doused in ice water, and it makes her shiver.

_At least_, she thinks, _Penelo and Vaan are happy. Their wedding is in a few days._

Ashe sighs as Penelo's voice floats into her mind. Their most recent conversation had been unlike any they'd ever had before.

* * *

"_We still need to get you a dress."_

"_That isn't necessary," Penelo says as the walk down the streets. Three guards follow the girls at a distance, and Ashe tries to ignore them. "You've done enough for us already."_

"_I believe it is you who have done too much for me." Ashe had charged them two years prior with running the city's orphanage, and Vaan and Penelo had exceeded her expectations. The establishment ran smoothly and the children were happy under the pair's care. Ashe visited them when possible so she could send them government funding if needed, and often found herself pulled into a game of hide and go seek._

_It made her long to have her own children – children with her smile and Basch's eyes._

"_Really, Ashe –"_

"_I believe that I am serving as your Maid of Honor," Ashe says, "which means I get a certain amount of say in what you wear. Especially if you are going to make me wear that purple dress."_

"_I like the purple dress."_

_Ashe just raised her eyebrow. They'd argued for weeks over the violet dress now hanging in her closet. _

"_Tomorrow we will go find your wedding dress. I am free all afternoon."_

_Penelo surrenders, knowing fighting will do her no good. "Yes, your majesty."_

_Ashe grins at her and links her arm with her friend's. "Are you excited? Two weeks."_

_Penelo smiles. "Of course I am. I only wish that you would find someone too."_

_Ashe says nothing. Four years of reign and, as far as the people knew, she had been courted by no one. It was a strange way of doing things to be sure, but Ashe still was not ready to move on._

_At least that was what she told them._

"_Have you heard from Basch?"_

"_I have. I received a letter from him this morning."_

"_Is he well?"_

"_He is Basch."_

_Penelo walks in silence with Ashe, placing her hand on the queen's arm as a means of comfort, and Ashe knows what is coming. It was only a matter of time before Penelo, intuitive as she is, figured it out._

_When Penelo asks about the ring only moments later, it seems to Ashe that the fates wish for Penelo to know. "Ashe, I've always meant to ask – that silver band you wear… I looked at it when Balthier left it when he took the Strahl. Where is it from? What does the inscription mean?"_

_Ashe knows she should lie, tell Penelo that it was a gift from her late father and then distract her with something in a window, but never telling anyone of her visits with Basch… never letting anyone know, it has hurt her, grated on her nerves and made her more secretive than she ever wanted to be. _

"_Do you not remember how Basch always called me 'his princess'?"_

_Penelo frowns a bit, holding Ashe a bit with her arm, sensing that the moment has gone from carefree to heavy._

"_It was from Basch?"_

_Ashe nods solemnly, avoiding her friend's eyes. "You do miss him, don't you?" Penelo's question requires little answer._

"_More than you know." Ashe looks to the cobbled street beneath their feet, letting her hair fall against her face. It is longer now – Basch had told her two years ago that he liked her hair longer __and she hadn't cut it since. _

"_Oh, Ashe…" Penelo wraps her arm around Ashe's shoulder and the two enter the orphanage – their destination – and go up to the third floor where she and Vaan stay. Penelo gestures Ashe to one of the chairs at the small table and Ashe sits in silence until Penelo hands her a cup of tea. _

"_How long have you known?" She looks up at Penelo as she slides into the chair across from her._

"_I know that you are happiest right before you know you will see him, and I've seen you two together. I know you're saddest when you come home or when he leaves. It wasn't difficult to put together."_

_Ashe laughs a bit. She supposes it wouldn't be for Penelo, who has come to know her so well. "We haven't hidden well enough, then."_

"_You shouldn't have to hide."_

"_There is little to cover up, Penelo. We barely see each other."_

"_How long have you two been… involved?"_

"_Always," Ashe says simply, then sips her tea. "Never. I do not know."_

"_Before the war?"_

"_Before I was old enough to understand that I loved him." Ashe had not thought of it this way until she speaks the words. "I do not remember ever not being in love with Basch."_

"_What of Rasler?" Ashe cringes, and Penelo is quick with an apology. "I am sorry. I do not mean to pry."_

"_You never need to apologize to me, Penelo. I do not know what I would do without you." Ashe takes a deep breath, considering her question. "I did love Rasler, in the sense that we were friends who understood one another. We were an excellent match as people, and I could not have hoped for a better arranged marriage, but he did not love me as he could have loved a soulmate, and I did not love him as I love Basch. I denied it for a long time. We kept each other at a distance when we could bear to, but the past three years it has been… easier."_

"_There is no way…" Ashe shakes her head before Penelo can finish voicing her question._

"_No. He must remain in Arcadia. He could not live with himself if he did not fulfill Noah's obligations."_

"_I am so sorry," Penelo says. She reaches out across the table and takes Ashe's hand. Ashe gives Penelo's a squeeze and holds it, feeling as if a huge weight has been lifted from her shoulders now that someone knows._

"_Do not be sorry," Ashe says. Penelo's soft, kind eyes give her strength and Ashe regrets that she had not met the girl sooner. She could have saved her from the Lowtown alleys after she was orphaned if they'd become friends sooner. "I am a better person – a better queen – for having felt this. But I would have you cherish Vaan and the luxury of being with him every day of your life."_

_There are tears in both women's eyes as they look at each other in understanding. "I will. I promise you."

* * *

_

Ashe groans as she opens her eyes, pulled from the memory and feeling ice cold as she remembers she is alone. "Where is Zargabaath?" She moans the question to herself and sits up on the step, rubbing the drowsiness from her eyes. "What kind of delay could they have incurred?"

She looks through the columns and into the courtyard. The pool of water that divides it in half is glassy and still, reflecting the stars above. Ashe stares into its depth and its darkness, longing for a swim, but knowing she will have little time to escape tomorrow afternoon to take one. She leans into the railing once more, trying to recall her schedule for the week and find enough time to schedule a trip to the lake.

A figure moves in the distance. Ashe shakes her head to clear it and tries to focus on its approach. He walks alone – surely this is the Archadian Judge, for no other Archadian would be arrogant enough to walk the winding streets of Rabanastre that lay between the aerodrome and the palace in the dark. They are a labyrinth to the foreigners.

A tall man walks along the long pool, and though he is still at a great distance, Ashe can tell this is not the old, time and battle worn Zargabaath. This man carries his belongings in a large duffel bag, bearing its weight with a straight back and long strides, his shoulders straight and his head high. He walks in the long shadows of the trees, and Ashe squints, trying to gain a better view of him, until he steps into the bright moonlight.

This is not Zargabaath. Zargabaath's hair would not gleam in the light, falling shaggy around his crown and temple with new growth. Zargabaath's eyes would not be so open and light – his grin would not be so large. He would not be looking around the palace with such happiness, such complete and utter delight.

No, this is not Zargabaath.

Ashe's eyes widen, and all weariness is forgotten as she pulls herself to her feet in disbelief. She steps down, tripping over her own shoes, and waits for the coming ambassador to step into the courtyard's lights and prove himself to be a stranger – someone she has never met before that only bears resemblance to… no, no that gait – she knows this man's walk…

She whispers, "Basch."

She rushes to him, her feet barely touching the cold marble floor, her mind moving even faster than her body.

_The ambassadors would become citizens of the cities to which they are assigned._

_**Author's Note: Longest chapter yet!**_

_**To my beautiful, wonderful, sparse, amazing, fantastic, illustrious, faithful reviewers (and silent readers - maybe there is one?): Hang in there! We're so close to the end! :) or :( ?  
**_


	19. Just like this

**Just like this.**

"_I have been having trouble locating a suitable ambassador for Dalmasca."_

_Basch, instead of finding the meaning in the sentiment, stops and takes note of how deep Larsa's voice has become. He watches as the young emperor rises to his feet from behind the expanse of his oak desk – tall, confident and handsome now. He is a fine ruler and a good man, Basch thinks, but he often wonders why he confides in him the political difficulties of Archadia._

_Basch had never felt he held any skill concerning politics._

"_Would you have me gather a list of candidates?"_

_Larsa sighs and comes around his desk to stand before Basch and seats himself atop its surface, folding his arms. The knight knows the pensive look on the young lord's face all too well – it is the one he wears when he makes difficult decisions._

"_No. I do not think anyone else will do."_

"_Anyone else, my Lord?"_

_Larsa looks up at him, his straight brown hair falling around his shoulders. At times, he looks frighteningly like Vayne, but then Basch looks closer and sees a warmth in Larsa that his elder brother could never have hoped to mimic._

"_I would have you return to Rabanastre and be Archadia's ambassador to Dalmasca."_

_Basch stares at him, numb. "You would have me… excuse me?"_

"_Yes. You know Archadia and her people well enough – on paper you have served us for most of your life. You are younger than the others who would take on the challenge and I believe that you would represent Archadia quite well."_

_When Basch makes no motion – when he stands frozen in surprise – Larsa smiles. "It is not that I wish you to leave – I have enjoyed your company and service more than you know, but I cannot deny that Archadia is not your home. I owe it to you, and to your brother, to let you go home to Dalmasca… and her queen."_

"_My Lord…"_

"_You would make a fine ambassador and you would continue to serve Archadia at a distance. You once spoke to me of your knightly vows – how you'd made them to House Dalmasca and then adopted your brother's vows. I can only assume it has troubled you that you had to abandon your oaths for Gabranths'?"_

"_I have done it with pride, my Lord."_

"_But it troubles you. In this way, you forsake no one. You have fulfilled your last promise to him, Basch. You have protected me while I established myself as an emperor and not as a puppet, and for that I thank you. Please, take this assignment as a gift that will put your mind at rest."_

_Basch thinks of it – of returning to Dalmasca after so many years of short visits, of walking the Westersand and hunting wolves, of laying in the cool grass of the park with his princess, watching the stars._

_He can almost feel her arms around him as he thinks of returning._

"_I would be most honored."_

_Larsa gives him a crooked, knowing smile and slides down from his perch. "It is settled then. You will go to Dalmasca as my representative and contact me with any political news. You will be my eyes and ears in Rabanastre – you know we can't trust those Dalmascans." _

_He grips Basch's shoulder as he passes, leaving the room no doubt to find food – Basch thinks the boy never stops eating – leaving his guard to stand there, dumbfounded.

* * *

_

He had not contacted her to let her know it was he coming to represent Archadia, lest plans be changed and he be replaced. Until he stepped onto the airship and bid Larsa goodbye, Basch did not let himself believe he was homeward bound, and it wasn't until he set foot on Dalmascan ground with his duffle bag in his hand that he felt it – the happiness of knowing he was where he always wanted to be.

He wove through Rabanastre's near-deserted streets close to midnight, working his way towards the palace, expecting only some young, untried guard to greet him with false enthusiasm and formality. He planned to wait impatiently until morning to see his princess, to let her know that he was home, to hold her, for he could not bear to wake her.

He'd walked up the courtyard, waiting for his guard to come get him, but the unknown man never came.

Instead, he was greeted with another sight – Ashe running towards him, her sapphire dress flowing around her, glowing in the night's light.

His heart pounds against his ribs as he takes in the sight of her flying at him – and he swears she flies, an angel come to rescue him – and when she reaches him he catches her, staggering back with the force of her weight and capturing her in his arms.

"Ashe," he whispers. He repeats her name over and over as she whimpers, clutching him tighter and tighter, desperately clawing at him, pulling at his shirt, trying to find a way to get closer to him, to hold him tighter. He buries his face in her hair, drinking in the smell of her, the warmth and the sound of her voice at his ear.

"It's you, it's you."

"It is me, princess."

"You are home?" she asks. He feels her hand move up to his neck and his knees weaken a bit – she's always known how to touch him, melt him into a shadow of his former strength.

"I am home to stay." Tears well in his eyes and he shuts them tight – old age has softened him, he fears – focusing on the feeling of her in his arms, held so tightly that her feet are a foot from the ground.

He feels her sob, feels her tears on his neck and he lets her slide against him to the ground. As he brushes her hair from her face and neck – it is longer now and so beautiful – he looks down into her eyes, feeling his own overflow with tears of complete happiness. Years ago he would have simply felt weakness streaming down his face, but now he knows it is not a fault or a failing – it is just humanity.

"Why do you weep?" he asks, though he knows what she will say. He wipes her tears away gently, and then wraps his arms back around her, holding her tight to him.

"Because I am so happy you are home."

"That I could move you so makes me whole."

Her smile lights up her face, the courtyard, and the night across Ivalice. There are no questions to be asked – in her last letter she'd told him that nothing had changed in Rabanastre, that she missed and loved him and hoped to see him soon.

Basch had not replied to that letter. He hadn't dared, lest his pen leak his secret onto the page.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She searches his face for an answer, and he fears he may have hurt her in his brief silence.

"I was not positive I would make it here," he explains, running his hands over her back, feeling the satin of her dress slide under his hands. "I did not wish to give you false hope."

Ashe smiles at him and sighs, burying her face against his chest. He holds her there for a long time, letting himself fall into a state of feeling rather than thinking, of being rather than knowing –that blissful state of happiness he so often found in her arms. He bows his head, resting it against her shoulder, and allows himself to be weak in her arms, vulnerable to her touch and whim.

After a long, silent moment of peace, Ashe looks up at him and brushes his hair back from his face. He has let it grow a bit, trying to regain a sense of self, and the smile she gives him when she runs her fingers through his locks makes it worth it.

"Does your queen not even deserve a kiss in greeting?"

Basch smiles at her, struck once again by her beauty and the impossible notion that she, the fierce and gorgeous Queen Ashe, would have a lowly knight like him kiss her.

But they have never been ordinary, and he feels it is time that he accept her power over him and his over her.

He kisses her, grinning all the while, and chuckles as he feels her respond with enthusiasm, letting the kiss come slow and easy between them. As always, she wraps her arms around his shoulders and finds the pace at the nape of his neck that makes him shiver – and he does, making her laugh against his lips in triumph.

Basch holds her tighter – some place between his shoulders aching from an old injury, but he cannot bring himself to care as she kisses him back with a fire he has never felt from her before. He needn't ask where it comes from – she knows he will stay, that he is home in Rabanastre, and it changes things, breaks their boundaries.

Ashe struggles for breath against his assault on her senses, and he too fights for air as she pulls him in deeper and deeper, making him ache more and more for things he cannot have.

It isn't until she pulls away and reaches for his hand that he remembers they are in the open. Any passing palace patrol could see them and tell the city of the queen's indiscretions.

He stumbles as she tugs at him, no longer a knight in possession of his senses, but a boy of seventeen willing to do anything to hold his girl for another moment longer. He grabs the strap of his bag and hoists it up over his shoulder before following her into the palace.

"Oh, welcome to Rabanastre, Ambassador Gabranth."

* * *

She does not bother escorting him to a guest room – Basch expects they will crawl into bed and sleep, no doubt she has a busy day planned tomorrow.

"What is your schedule for the morning?"

"I must attend a park opening at ten, and then I have a meeting with you, the ambassador of Rozarria, and some of the nobles to discuss… oh, what do they call it? The 'ongoing reconstruction of our Royal City,' or something like that."

She takes his bag from him and settles it down on her floor. They are silent, and Basch just watches her, the way she stands and looks at him, her head tilted to one side and a small, content smile on her lips.

"Every time I see you I am surprised by how handsome you are. It is like you've never changed – not since the day I met you."

Basch chuckles a bit at her innocence and kindness – he knows he cannot look the same as he did eighteen years ago.

"I doubt that, princess."

"You do." She steps towards him and reaches up to touch his face. "Your eyes are the same, your hair, your nose… all that's changed is the scar, but I don't mind it?"

"I never understood how you could not mind such a deformity."

"Deformity? Nay." She runs her fingers across it, and he closes his eyes at her touch. "It is simply proof of all you've been through."

Basch raises his hand to hers and holds it there against his face. Over the past three years, when he was confined to his armor, they would steal small moments away from the others. The only place she could touch him was his face, and there had been so many moments when he would awake in the middle of the night, wishing only to feel her fingertips against his brow.

And now he was with her.

"Ashe," he starts slowly, so as not to startle her. "I understand that we've carried on this affair when we could not truly be together. I must ask you now that I have returned… would you still have me?"

"Of course. How could you ask such a thing?"

"You are a queen. I am but a knight. Only circumstance has garnered me your attention."

"Do not say such things." Ashe knows life has dealt Basch a hand that has left him doubting himself and his worthiness of any fortune that falls upon him. He has often asked why she would be with him, and her answer has always been that she loves him. She tells him often, whenever she can, and he tells her so rarely that she cherishes each time he says the word.

"Was it the fates that brought us together?" He runs his fingers down her side. "Was this the fates' plan all along?"

"I would like to think so," she tells him, kissing the peak of his jaw and hugging him tight. "I would like to think that through everything, we were meant to find ourselves here, in this room at this very moment, just like this."

"Just like this?" He kisses her again, unable to stop himself. The stillness around them, the cool breeze floating in from the window, the way her hair smells… it is all too perfect, as if the fates had willed it. He kisses her the way he would have years ago, the night she first told him she loved him, had he not been so bound by the rules – a silent begging that she accept him for what he is and a quiet acceptance of her – not her station – and everything that she is.

Ashe somehow understands, and it is as if nothing has changed between that moment before her wedding and now – nothing has happened, they were never separated or hurt, he never endured her glares or held her as she bled for him in the Paramina Rift. There was never an invasion, a Vayne Solidor, a Judge of Wings or a suit of armor separating her body from his. There is only a princess and the knight who loves her.

Her fingers find the buttons of his shirt first, fumbling with them until she has them undone. He steps back, gasping for air as she pushes it from his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground.

He wants to stop her – to tell her they should wait, that she shouldn't make any rash decisions when her judgment is so clouded by the surprise of his arrival, but he cannot. The words will not come as she runs her fingers across his chest and captures his mouth again, giving him a perfect reason to cease attempting to speak.

Ashe fails to stifle a moan as Basch finds the laces to her dress. They are complicated – too complicated for his male fingers, which are not accustomed to such things, so he breaks from her and gently turns her. He runs his fingers over the exposed flesh of her shoulders before untying the bow and tugging the laces lose. As Ashe slides the dress off, he wraps his arms around her waist from behind and bites lightly at her neck.

They pause for a moment – he with only his slacks left and she in her slip, and he holds her, giving her time to think – time to stop, if she wishes it. It is not until she whispers that he dare move.

"Don't let me go."

"Never."

She takes his hand from her waist and steps from his hold, but only just. A smile rests on her lips – one of calm anticipation, and her eyes are wide and trusting. It breaks him, makes him want to envelop her – encase her in what protection he can provide, and keep her from the world's evils until the fates will that he cannot.

But this cannot be. He can only hope to remain at her side – hope that she would keep him close.

She pulls him towards her bed and he follows, in awe of her beauty, and when she kneels on the mattress and invites him into her arms he is speechless.

* * *

Ashe awakes in the morning with the sense that she has overslept. It is not until she listens closer to the world around her that she realizes it is raining, and that the sun was never given the chance to wake her.

Clearly, the park opening will have to be postponed.

She groans and begins to come to her senses, but it is not until she realizes that the bed is not entirely cold that she opens her eyes.

Basch is sitting up, watching her and smiling as she wakes, his back propped up against the pillows. His eyes are light – lighter than she has seen them recently – and she smiles up at him before yawning.

"Good morning, princess," he says. He strokes her hair as she turns into him, wrapping her arms around his torso and resting her head on his chest. She snuggles into him as though he were a stuffed animal – Sir Percival, perhaps – and he would have it no other way.

"It is only morning if I have to get out of bed."

"You do not," he says, tracing his fingers down her bare arm. She smiles at his touch – feather light on her skin. "There was a letter slipped under your door for you to find when you woke. The opening has been cancelled. I read it, I hope you don't mind."

His voice is tender and gentle, and Ashe appreciates his quietness. She never did like loud things just after waking.

But of course Basch would know that.

"Did you sleep well?"

"What little you let me sleep, yes."

She grins and turns her face into his chest, blushing furiously. "I'm sorry?"

Basch chuckles and she feels it radiate from him, making her happier in turn – she did not think it was possible. "You've nothing to be sorry for… unless you regret it."

"I could never." She squeezes him tight, stroking the bottom of his foot with her toes. "Do you?"

"I could never."

With a deep, contented sigh he closes his eyes, resting his head back on the headboard. This is the first morning in years that he has not gone for a run at dawn without itching for movement and exercise. He feels it already – his routine as a knight breaking, his life changing, and it has not yet been a day.

As he looks down at her, he notices the smoothness of her skin, its vibrant color, tanned by days spent in the desert sun. It is marked only with small scratch lines, noticeable only to one who would care to memorize her so well.

"You are so young," he whispers, running his index finger from her shoulder to the tip of her hand. He pulls the covers up over her to shield her from the cool breeze. "You've your whole life ahead of you."

"As do you," Ashe says. She folds her arms across his chest and looks up at him. She can hardly believe he is forty – forty-one next month. His face bears little sign of it. There are tiny creases growing along his eyes, small lines across his forehead from worry – Ashe would prefer his laugh lines be bold and noticeable, but Basch has not laughed enough. She intends to remedy that – make him smile as often as possible.

"I am old, Ashe."

"You are only older than me by seventeen years. That is nothing."

"Seventeen years more of abusing my body with battle and harsh climates."

"Well, then I will simply have to ensure you are well cared for, will I not?" Ashe means it in humor, but Basch frowns.

"I would not be a burden to you."

"I did not mean it that way. Basch, I would have no one but you at my side. You know this. Age means nothing to me – yes, you are older, but you have protected me my whole life. Who better could I trust my heart to?"

Basch smiles, stroking her hair again – he cannot seem to stop, for the way it flows over his fingers fascinates him.

"I would never hurt you."

"I know."

To declare the subject closed, she rests her cheek against his chest and closes her eyes, feeling his heart beat against her skin. It is melodic – how many times has she nearly lost him?

"You had promised me that when everything was over, you would take me south to rest. You promised me a vacation."

"I did?" He cannot recall.

"The day you left for Nalbina… do you remember? It was the last time I saw you before…" She notices how their lives are divided into 'befores' and 'afters.' "It was raining like this. I remember. You told me to plan for it, and that you would take me wherever I wanted to go and you would be my guard."

"I remember." Basch speaks slowly. "The kingdom was falling and I knew you would need time."

"You knew that I would need you. Do not sell yourself short."

"I am sorry we never made that trip. We could have gone to the sea."

What if he had not gone – if it had been Basch who had fled with her and not Vossler? What if she'd spent years in hiding at his side? Would she have come back to Dalmasca, or would she have settled down with him in some small village? How many children would they have had?

The questions, which had always plagued her, seem insignificant as they lay there, skin to skin and soul to soul.

"We still can." Her eyes become hopeful as she thinks of it. "We could go into the Rozarrinan countryside for a while. I am due for a vacation."

"Can you take one?"

"I am queen. I will do what I want. Besides, I trust my advisors and the council to do what is right."

"Then we will go."

"After Vaan and Penelo's wedding. Oh, they will be so pleased to see you!"

Basch smiles and closes his eyes again, running his hand up and down her spine, slow and lethargic. He soaks in the feeling of being home where those he cares for live and wonders distantly if Balthier and Fran will be there.

"I have the morning free." It is a rarity for her. She cannot remember the last morning she slept in without having spent the evening at some nighttime function to earn her late wakeup.

"What would you like to do with it?"

Ashe grins at him, impish, and draws the covers up over their heads.

* * *

**Author's Note: Short chapter! W00t!**

**Awe. Happy Ashe/Basch for an entire chapter. See? Virtually angst free.  
**


	20. Rightful Place

**Rightful Place****  
**

Ashe wakes slowly, being pulled from a light, pleasant dream back to reality. She struggles to stay asleep in her quiet, peaceful world, but there is a voice – distant, but coming closer, speaking to her.

"Good morning," it says. She feels something soft against her shoulder. "Good morning," it says again, moving up to her neck. "Ashe, it is time to wake up." Something rough rubs against her shoulder and she giggles, coming to her senses.

"You need to shave."

"I was waiting for you to wake up," Basch says. "I've been trying for a half an hour, but you keep drifting back off."

"I'm tired," she says, pulling her pillow closer and turning her face into it. Basch wraps his arms around her waist from behind and turns his face into her neck.

"I am too, but we mustn't be late for the wedding."

Ashe sighs. She would much rather stay there with her knight. Her new favorite part of the day is the morning, when she wakes to feel her knight beside her. He always wakes before her – long standing habits are difficult to break – but does not leave or try to wake her until he must. Instead, for the few days he has been back in Rabanastre, he has simply laid beside Ashe in the mornings and watched her sleep, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, and thanked the fates and every god he knew of for her love.

"Penelo is so happy," she says. Ashe pushes herself up into a sitting position, keeping herself covered by the blanket. Basch smiles at her modesty and wraps his arm around her. He kisses her temple lightly, then her lips when she looks up to him.

"Are you happy?"

"Absolutely. How could I be unhappy, going to bed with you each night and waking up to this handsome face each morning?" She rubbed his stubble with her palm.

Basch chuckles and kisses her again. "Go. Get dressed. If we stay here any longer we may never leave."

She smiles and slips from the bed to go find the violet dress, keeping herself wrapped in one of the blankets all the while.

* * *

The small church is packed by the time Ashe and Penelo get there – the couple has many friends. It took her an hour to wrestle the girl into the dress and to fix her hair, but as Ashe looks at her friend, glowing in her wedding gown and happier than she's ever been, Ashe realizes it was worth it.

Basch strides into the chapel's lobby, wearing formal Archadian attire that Ashe knows must be too warm for Dalmasca's climate. Luckily, the day is relatively cool.

"Penelo, you look stunning."

Color rises in the bride's face and she hugs the ambassador. "Thank you."

"I've been telling everyone that Judge Gabranth was a member of our party while we found the means to restore Dalmasca. They all know Lord Larsa was involved, so the story is plausible. We needn't fear being near him in public anymore."

"Really?" Penelo's eyes light up. There had been times Ashe thought Penelo took Basch's identity change harder than she did – the idea that he walked in another's shoes had always bothered the orphan, and when he'd come to visit and the others had wanted to see him, they'd always had to stay in the palace to keep from suspicion.

"It will be like we are old friends. I am simply called by another name."

"You will always be Basch to me."

"And that is enough."

Penelo smiles. All of the guests are seated inside. Vaan is waiting for her at the altar with Balthier standing reluctant as his best man. Basch being there mostly as himself was almost enough to make Penelo cry from happiness.

"It's time," Ashe says.

"I shall go take my seat."

"Wait, Basch?"

Penelo steps after him and seizes his hand. "Would you do me a favor?"

"Certainly. Anything for the bride."

"Would you walk me down the aisle?"

Basch is touched that she would ask such a thing of him. He knows her parents died long ago, and that she had never really stopped missing them. He'd assumed she would walk alone, or maybe be escorted by Ashe – who better than the queen?

"Penelo, I –"

"Ashe says everyone knows we were all together, right? I wouldn't ask you if it didn't mean so much to me. I wouldn't have anyone else…"

"I would be honored to, Penelo."

Ashe smiles at him and slips between them to the doors. "I will see you at the altar," she tells Penelo, kissing her friend's cheek for good measure before leaving her in Basch's capable hands.

* * *

The reception is held at the palace at Ashe's insistence – only the best for her friends. She watches as Vaan and Penelo take their first dance, and she wonders if his smile could be any wider. They are captivating, their love for each other on display for all to see. It isn't until Ashe feels a presence at her side that she stops staring at them.

"They do look happy, don't they?" Balthier stares at them with folded arms.

"They do. I am pleased they finally made it here. And I am glad you were able to come."

"Oh, I wouldn't have missed it." Balthier's tone, as always, is pleasantly arrogant. "Besides, Penelo would have skinned me if I hadn't been Vaan's best man."

"I do not doubt it."

"Where is your good knight?"

Ashe looks around the circle of guests watching the bride and groom and spots Basch across the room. He smiles at her and she smiles back, clearly in a way that gives Balthier all the proof he needs.

"Ah, I see. You and the Archadian ambassador. Will that be good for your political ties?"

"It does not matter," Ashe says. "I suppose it would fit – being with another who is involved with the games that countries play, but we have always been…"

"Complicated?"

"Unique."

Balthier smiles as Fran steps up to his side, dressed far more conservatively than normal for this occasion. She sees him slip his hand into hers and Ashe grins.

"Believe you me," Balthier says quietly, "I know unique."

* * *

A few weeks later, Ashe finds herself in Penelo's loft, sitting on her and Vaan's bed. The room is perfectly clean and orderly, just the way it always is, and its immaculate nature grates on Ashe's nerves. She clenches her fits in aggravation and fear, and then releases the blanket beneath her over and over again until Penelo walks in.

"Ashe?" The girl jumps, nearly dropping the bread she carries in surprise. The queen had never snuck into their room before, and the look on her face told her clearly that something was wrong. "What troubles you?"

"Penelo, I'm frightened."

When Penelo steps closer, she can see that Ashe has been crying. Ashe looks up at her as she approaches, her steps slow and careful as though she were preparing to touch a wild animal. "What's wrong?"

"Basch, I –" Ashe finds herself unable to speak through all the thoughts buzzing in her mind. "We have never talked of marriage."

"Yes?"

"He has never spoken of it. I assume he plans to wait until he has been in Rabanastre a while so the public would not be wary of him. The more time he spends here the more valid our relationship seems, but…"

"Are you alright?"

"I'm pregnant, Penelo."

"Oh, dear."

"I am afraid… well, it's Basch. What if –"

"Ashe, this is fantastic news!"

"Excuse me?"

"It's a baby!" Penelo bounces onto the bed beside Ashe and envelops her in a tight hug. Ashe bites her lip. In all her worry and confusion about what everyone would think if the queen were to have a child out of wedlock, she had missed the miracle in the doctor's words.

"It's a baby…"

"You have to tell Basch!" Penelo holds Ashe by the shoulders and looks at her, laughing a bit at her shock. "He will be so pleased, Ashe. I know he will be."

"I didn't think I could have children. When I married Rasler… there have been problems in my family. Many of the women cannot bear children, and I thought…"

"Then this is even more of a miracle."

"You think Basch will be happy?"

"I know he will be. He loves you so much – do not underestimate him."

* * *

Ashe finds Basch in his office at the Archadian embassy. Above their heads is the apartment he should be using, but he has yet to have spent a night there. His things are stored in the rooms, yes, but each evening he comes to the palace and joins Ashe for dinner. He simply does not leave.

He is shuffling through papers, signing a few as he goes, and hands a letter to the messenger moggle standing on the chair in front of his desk. The moogle gives a 'coo' of thanks and turns to leave, bowing to Ashe as he does so. Ashe waves to him as he leaves and shuts the door behind him.

"Your majesty," Basch says with a smile, his voice laced with sarcasm – a new skill clearly born of his new happiness. "How may Archadia serve you today?"

"We need to talk."

Basch freezes. Those words never mean anything good in his experience. He sets the papers down and walks around the desk to her. "What is wrong?"

"Nothing. At least, I think nothing is _wrong_."

"Ashe…" Of course he would know she was lying. Basch knows everything about her.

She takes a deep breath, steeling herself to say it. Ashe is still not convinced that he will not be angry – he knew of the condition that ran in her family, they'd discussed it recently. They had never spoken of children – their children – because he knew how the thought had troubled her.

So when the words spill forth, he is shocked.

"I am carrying our child."

"C-child?"

Basch is not a man to stutter.

Ashe watches him, waiting for a reaction other than the blank stare of shock on his face. She stares into his eyes, trying to discern what he is feeling. Happiness? Anger? Indifference?

They had never spoken of marriage.

"Ashe, this is wonderful!"

A grin breaks across his face, erasing the years that lay between them, and suddenly she is in his arms, pressed tight to his chest, her feet n longer on the ground. It is his happiness that makes her grin, and then the feeling of knowing life grows inside of her finally sinks in, and her heart beats in joy.

"We're going to have a baby." She whispers it, making it more real to herself, and she hears Basch laugh, feels it against her stomach.

"I know you didn't plan on this."

"You didn't either."

He sets her down and takes her face in his hand, looking down into her eyes. "You will be a magnificent mother."

"I can already see you with him."

"Or her."

"Or her."

He hugs her tight again, kissing her over and over. Through the kisses and her laughter, he forces out the words he has wanted to say for so long.

"Will you marry me?"

Ashe beams at him and nods in agreement, no longer anything but a woman overjoyed by starting a family with the man she loves.

"Yes. Yes, I will."

"I've wanted to ask you for so long."

"I think this is the fates telling you that now is the time."

And he holds her tighter, feeling for the first time in decades that he has a family and a genuine home.

* * *

Her second wedding is simple, attended only by those she holds most dear. Her dress is light and airy – comfortable like the day. It hangs loosely over her body, hiding what little indication that she is with child from public view, though everyone present knows.

They are married in the palace courtyard in an informal ceremony, barefoot and casual.

He holds her tight as the priest tells him that he may kiss his bride, and when he feels the cool, crisp breeze run over the field – feels the grass tickling his bare feet – he is happier than he could have ever imagined being.

She kisses him back and they are married. He hears their friends cheer, the applause of the few dignitaries who attend, and the quiet cooing of the moogle representatives. When they step back from each other – and they must be sure to, lest they lose themselves in front of their guests – Basch looks into her eyes and he knows deep in his soul that there could never be another for him.

That he could love a woman such as Ashe – be near her enough to truly love her and feel her presence with every part of his being – is a miracle in its self, but that she could love him in return – that he could trust her feelings for him without a second thought?

The thought nearly brings the knight to his knees.

He looks down at her and takes her hand in his, kissing the ring he has wed her with, as is Landisian custom. It is not new; it has simply been moved to its rightful place.

* * *

Ashe sleeps soundly, though her face remains pale in exhaustion. Basch sits beside her in an old rocking chair, watching over her as she sleeps. She wears cotton nightclothes and her hair is kept from her face by a ribbon tied at the nape of her neck. When she smiles in her sleep, Basch smiles too.

He looks down at the bundle in his arms. Their son – the future king – lies sleeping in his arms, the tuft of golden blonde hair atop his head in disarray. He cannot tell who the boy will resemble – already he thinks his son has the shape of Ashe's eyes and his hands, though he hopes he will never use them to wield a sword.

He kisses the boy's forehead gently, as not to wake him, and holds him tighter. He's spent his entire life protecting others from war and poverty, but now he understands exactly what it is he has truly been protecting all along:

Every hume's right to have moments like this – moments of peace and happiness so intense that the tears of joy are not even noticed.

He looks up to Ashe and sees that she still sleeps soundly, and pauses to marvel at her beauty and strength. He promises himself that, when she wakes, he will remind her how much he loves her – he does not feel that he tells her enough, or that he ever could.

Basch looks down at his son's face, so grateful that the knight is, for the moment, broken, and smiles. He holds innocence, hope and life in his arms.

"We have many adventures ahead, so sleep well, Noah."

**Author's note: I'm not going to lie - I've been having so much fun writing this that winding it down kind of sucks.**

**Okay, it really sucks.**

**There's one more short chapter of snapshots, and then my short epilogue and that's it. I genuinely hope this doesn't disappoint anyone 3**


	21. And they lived

**And they lived...**

Ashe finds Basch standing in the doorway of the reading room, watching Noah from afar as he receives his daily lessons. She approaches quietly, certain that Noah doesn't know he is being observed. She doesn't want him to know – since she is so often pulled away from him by her duties as queen, which seem particularly time consuming of late, and she gets to watch him, just watch him, so rarely now.

Basch had not even turned when he addresses her. "He's such a gentle soul," he whispers as she wraps her arms around his waist from behind. She presses a kiss to the exposed flesh of his bicep beneath his sleeve. "Look at how still he is. He just sits there and listens, soaking in everything the tutor says."

"He's always been like that. He knows when to calm down and focus and when to have fun."

"You do not think he feels… confined, as you did?"

Ashe sighs. "He is confined, but not as I was. I had one parent most of my life. He has two who spend as much time with him as possible. He has a sense of family that I never had."

"I tried so hard," Basch says, pulling her around to his side. She leans into him, watching as Noah runs his fingers across the page of a book, sounding out the words. His shaggy blonde hair falls across his face, his lips curve up in a smile as he succeeds at something. He is just as Ashe would have imagined Basch at that age – kind and intelligent, excelling at everything while retaining an extraordinary sense of humility.

"I know you did. I don't know who I would have become without you."

"I worried about you so… especially after you realized your mother was not coming back."

Ashe closes her eyes, remembering the day of that revelation so clearly. It had come two years after her death, and Basch, who had not even met the woman, had been charged with dealing with her tears.

* * *

"_I am sorry, Ashe," Raminas says, kneeling before his daughter, his robes pooling around him at his knees. "I do not wish you leave you, but these peace talks must go on. You will understand when you are older."_

_Ashe is told this often. Basch watches her from a distance from the door, his arms folded across his uniform. She looks up at him for guidance, and he nods in agreement with Raminas. She, in turn, nods at her father and offers him a fake smile of understanding. _

"_Yes, sir," she says._

"_I will see you on Sunday, yes."_

"_Mm hmm." She nods at him and feels the ribbon slipping from her hair. _

"_Behave for Basch."_

"_I always do."_

_As Raminas begins to leave, Ashe takes a few steps to follow him. A question has plagued her for weeks, though she doesn't know why. "Will mommy be coming back with you?"_

_Raminas pauses at the door. She sees Basch look at him out of the corner of his eyes – her father turns his head just a bit and looks to the guard. She does not know what happens, but her father sweeps from the room without answering – without even looking back at her._

_Basch closes the door behind the king, then turns to Ashe. She looks up at him, confused, her head tilted to the side. She pulls the ribbon from her hair, letting it fall down around her shoulders, just like her mother used to wear hers._

"_Basch, when will my mother be coming back."_

"_Ashe, don't you remember?"_

_She frowns at him. She's seven now and her memories from the past few years are becoming fuzzy. She remembers her mother – her face and her laugh and the way she used to hold her – and she knows her mother died – that she was upset and scared and she'd cried. There had been many people in black, and she remembers her mother in a casket – at least, that's what Vossler had told her it was called – but she does not understand what any of it meant. She wonders if she did at the time._

"_I remember that she died."_

"_And do you know what that means?"_

"_Daddy said it means you go to sleep and you're somewhere else for a while. But when is she coming back?"_

_Basch sighs and kneels on the floor before her. It is not the way her father kneels – on one knee and at a distance. Basch pulls her close so that she is at his eye level, and even at seven she knows how handsome he is – at she imagines herself several years down the road as an adult, still with him. Though she has changed in her mind, he has not, for Basch will always be as perfect as he is now._

"_Do you ever listen to your own heartbeat?" He takes her hands in his as he always does. They are always warm and rough – something Ashe likes. It makes him different._

"_Sometimes… kind of."_

"_Well," he holds her hands up to the center of his chest and presses them there. "Everybody has a heart and a heartbeat, right?"_

"_Right."_

"_Well, the way I was taught to think of it is that every person's heartbeat is energy that the fates have given them. It keeps us moving and keeps us alive. But everybody's heart stops beating – sometimes after just a few years, sometimes after many, many decades, you understand?"_

"_Maybe."_

"_The fates take that energy back from everyone and everyone dies when that happens. The body stops working. But you know what?"_

_Ashe is beginning to understand, and she can feel the tears in her eyes. He's telling her that her mother isn't coming because the fates took her heartbeat away._

"_What?"_

"_That's just the body. Everything else – your soul and everything you feel? That survives and it goes somewhere else – to a place where you are young and well and happy and with those that you love. And when you want to, you can come back and live another life."_

"_So… my mommy is out there somewhere as someone else?"_

"_Maybe. Or maybe she is waiting for you on the other side. You will see her again."_

"_Are you sure?" Her tears spill over, and Basch pulls her close, sitting on the floor so that he is lower than her. He looks up at her and gives her an encouraging smile._

"_Of course I am. Would I ever lie to you?"_

_She shakes her head. She knows Basch would never do anything to hurt her._

"_Right."_

"_So mommy isn't coming back?"_

"_No, Ashe," he says gently. "She isn't."_

"_But she's somewhere and she's happy?"_

"_I am sure of it."_

"_So… so I can't be sad about it."_

"_You can be sad as long as you understand."_

_She sniffs. Her resolve to be a strong, proper princess breaks, and she begins to cry, choking out only two more words. "I understand."_

_Basch pulls her into his arms, and she curls up into his chest, holding her tight against him. She is safe there, she knows, protected by his strong arms and deep, melodic voice. She cries for a long time, and Basch rocks her back and forth until she calms._

"_Will I die?"_

"_Someday, a long time from now. You needn't think of it."_

"_And… will you die?"_

"_I will," he tells her, "but you needn't think of that either."_

"_But… what if you leave me?"_

"_I will do everything in my power not to let that happen. Is that good enough?"_

_Ashe sniffs, turning her face into his neck. He has just showered – she can tell. His skin always smells fresh with just a hint of something that smells like cinnamon. As long as Basch says he will do everything he can… well, she supposes that has to be good enough._

"_Yes."_

"_Good." He squeezes her tight and she laughs at him, hugging him back. "Now, what do you want to do today?"

* * *

_

"You were fantastic," Ashe tells him.

"You were sad for weeks after we spoke of it."

"I have always been comforted knowing that you will console the children so excellently if something were to happen to me."

"Do not speak of such things." Ashe turns her face into his chest, holding onto him tight. There has been a thought plaguing her for weeks – one she has not yet voiced.

"I am the same age as my mother was when she died. Noah is the same age as I –"

"Ashe, nothing will happen to you."

"It could be disease – something you cannot prevent."

"I would not survive without you."

"You would. For the children."

He holds her tight, leaning back against the doorframe. She rests there against him, wishing she had enough time before her next meeting to go to bed with him and sleep off her anxieties – to let him kiss them away as he always does so excellently. As he runs his hands up and down her back, she shivers – Basch knows just how to distract her – he has learned through the years. She looks up at him to see him grinning down at her.

"You shouldn't do that," she whispers to him. "You know where it leads."

"Ah, I do."

She has barely risen to her toes to kiss him, wondering if she can't push that meeting back a bit, when Noah calls for them.

"Daddy? Oh, mother, you're here too!" He stands on his chair and looks at them. "Come see? I can read a whole page!"

They sigh and laugh as they walk into the room to their son, who is so pleased with his accomplishment. Ashe takes Basch's hand, knowing they will have to wait until tonight, and gives his fingers a squeeze.

* * *

Ashe finds Basch in the palace kitchen late one night. She has just returned from a long meeting with Larsa and the Margrace family – one which was only tolerable for Larsa's humorous quips and their walks through Archades in the evenings when the Rozarrians were done ripping their polices to shreds.

"Basch?"

He turns, swallowing a large bite of his sandwich, and grins at her, setting it down on the counter.

"I was not expecting you back until tomorrow morning." He walks towards her and envelops her in his arms, wasting no time in finding her lips and kissing her. Ashe cannot suppress a bit of laughter as he does so.

"What?"

"I have something to tell you."

"What's that? We're conquering Rozarria next week?" There is a hopeful note to his voice – he has not felt much kindness since Al-Cid's proposal.

"No, no. Better."

He pretends to think. "I don't know."

"We are having another baby."

His eyes widen. "Another baby?"

"Yes. Another."

"Really?"

Ashe knows Basch has enjoyed fatherhood far more than he'd expected to – that he was more pleased with his own abilities than he'd anticipated. She had wondered if he'd be as excited about a second child – they were often so busy – but the look on his face gives her all the answer she needs.

"Really. A brother or sister for Noah."

Basch picks her up – something that bothers her more and more as he gets older, but it seems that there is little he cannot do as time goes on. "Are you excited?"

"Absolutely. I love Noah so much, how could I not want another?"

Basch kisses her, and like many of their kisses, it begins simple, but progresses into something more, and soon they are running up the stairs towards their room, laughing and clutching each other's hands.

It is the aftermath of loving one another for so long and having so much time stolen, Ashe thinks – or at least that is how she justifies it.

* * *

Noah is rummaging through the toy boxes in a desperate search for something when Basch walks in, Ashe close behind.

"What are you doing, Noah?" She folds her arms, watching their son.

"I was watching Larisa when we went for the walk today – you told me to," he says frantically. "The nurse has her now – taken her for a walk – but I've misplaced her stuffed dog. I can't find it and she can't sleep without it."

"Oh, she can't?" Basch asks. Noah rocks back onto his heels from his place on the floor and looks up at his father, defeated. There are tears in his eyes – if there is one thing Noah will not tolerate, it is his three year old sister's unhappiness, and now he has failed her.

_Such a perfectionist, _Basch thinks. _So like his mother._

"No. Even if I were to stay with her, she would not sleep. It is my fault. I have to find it."

Basch chuckles a bit and hands the boy the stuffed dog from behind his back. Noah's shoulders fall in relief and he walks forward, taking it from Basch. He is only eight, but he is wise and responsible beyond his years. _So like his father_, Ashe thinks.

"You didn't see her drop it. I did."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think to. I am sorry."

"I should go find her… give it back."

Basch nods and watches Noah run from the room, the dog dangling from his tiny fingers.

"You were watching out for her stuffed dog?" Ashe asks.

"I learn from my mistakes."

* * *

Larisa sits atop her father's lap on the evening of her seventh birthday. Noah, newly twelve, sits on the floor with a book on his lap, listening to his father's stories.

"And that is how your mother saved Dalmasca."

"Your father helped," Ashe says from her chair across the reading room. Basch looks up to her and smiles, flecks of gray dusting his hair around the temples. "A little."

"More than a little."

Noah looks up at his father. He has heard the story so many times that he knows the holes in it – that something does not quite fit.

Basch picks up Larisa and cradles her in his arms. She is sleepy – her tiny body curled up against her father's chest. "Will I be queen like mommy?"

"You will. And your brother will be king," he tells her, carrying her from the room. Larisa wraps her arms around Basch's neck and looks up at him adoringly. She has always been attached to Basch, hanging on his every word. He longs for the day when he can stop lying to her – when he can tell her the true story of what happened – let her know that her brother is not named for his father, rather her uncle who was never given the chance to redeem himself.

But for now, he is content with her unconditional love and trust. He lays her in her bed across from her brother's and tucks her in.

She looks up at him with her mother's eyes – they both have Ashe's eyes, for which he is grateful. He does not think he could look into Noah's eyes and call him by his brother's name if he'd gained the Gabranth eyes.

At least Basch had been able to take back his last name, citing that he'd only used his mother's maiden name as a judge for respect. The children bore both last names – Dalmasca and fon Ronsenburg – something that Basch took great pride in.

"Sleep tight, my princess. And Happy Birthday," he whispers.

"Thank you, daddy. I love you."

"I love you too." He kisses her forehead and turns to leave. He motions to the guard at the end of the hallway to let him know the princess is in her room, and the man nods in understanding.

Ashe looks up when Basch returns to the room. Noah is sitting beside Ashe on the sofa, and he looks up to his father when he enters.

"What is it, Noah?"

"I am confused."

Basch takes a seat at Noah's side. Ashe smiles at him and takes his hand over the top of the sofa, squeezing it tight.

"You were an Archadian Judge?"

"Yes."

"I went to look up the Vossler Azelas you'd spoken of in the registry. I wanted to see his record, and I found something."

"A Basch fon Ronsenburg, perhaps?" Ashe asks. Noah looks to her and nods earnestly.

"Yes, ma'am."

Basch sighs. He had known this day would come, as he knows it will with Larisa, but he had not expected Noah to be the one to start the conversation.

"I think it is time he knew," Ashe says. She looks up at Basch and he knows he will do this now. Speaking of it, as rarely as they do, always weakens him, dragging up memories he would rather not dwell on, and she meets his eyes, telling him that it is okay, because when his tale is through they will put Noah to bed and she will hold him as she always does. Knowing that she will take him in her arms and protect him as he has always protected her makes the words come easier.

When Basch is done telling Noah the truth, he looks down at his son for a reaction.

"So… you were never an Archadian Judge? Before the war?"

"No. I was a knight of Dalmasca."

"And… your brother, Noah…he killed Ashe's father?"

"He was severely misguided."

"And you named me after him?"

"We told you," Ashe says, stroking back Noah's hair as he leans back into her, "Noah realized everything he'd done wrong to hurt your father. He just never had the chance to redeem himself and right his wrongs."

"How can you say that he was a good man?"

"When your Uncle Larsa comes into town next week, talk to him about it," Basch tells him. "Larsa and Noah were very good friends."

"He was Larsa's guard… like you were mom's?"

"Yes."

Ashe raises an eyebrow at him. "I doubt Gabranth ever took Larsa out for ice cream at two in the morning because he'd had a bad dream."

"He may have." Talking about this makes Basch's throat tighten in grief. It is only when his son crawls over to him and hugs him tight about the neck that it all seems worth it again.

"I want to grow up to be brave like you, dad."

Basch holds him tight, pulling the boy onto his lap. "You already are brave, son."

"I want to be a good King someday."

"You will be," Ashe assures him, rubbing his back in a way that only a mother can. Basch feels Noah unravel in his arms, relaxing into something akin to jelly. Basch chuckles and picks the boy up – slowly, because he is quite tall and strong, and Basch is not as agile as he used to be. He looks to Ashe at his side, watching as she kisses the boy's temple and they exchange goodbyes.

"I'll take him to bed. You go on."

She nods and kisses him lightly before letting him go.

Basch carries him to the bedroom and the guard opens the door for him. He lays Noah in his bed and tucks him in, stopping for a moment to look at his sleeping angels. Larisa lays curled up with her stuffed dog – he thinks she has named it York this week, after a story he'd told them of Vossler – and Noah instantly unfurls himself to take up the entire bed with outstretched arms and legs.

He watches them sleep, and when he leaves for his room, he feels lighter knowing his son finally knows his name.

* * *

Ashe waits for him patiently, and he finds her sitting on the edge of their bed. He removes his shirt, boots and belt before moving to her, lying down on the bed beside her. She moves so that he rests his head on her shoulder, and she holds him tight.

"Are you alright?" She runs her fingers through his hair, smiling at how the silver shines on her fingers.

"I am," he says. "When I think about Noah, I often think about how I'd thought my life would be when I was a boy in Landis."

"Yes?"

"I never thought that I would find myself here. I never knew my life would be so full of… everything. Happiness, grief, sorrow, love… I feel like I've truly been on an adventure."

"You speak as though you expect something horrible to happen."

"No, not at all. I am just happy to be here with you."

She runs her fingers over his jaw, and then tilts his face up to hers. "I feel the same way."

They kiss, he runs his hands over her sides, still toned from the runs they take each morning through the streets of Rabanastre before the day and duty takes her away from him. He draws her to him, letting her roll him onto his back, and suddenly he is safe from himself, trapped in the comfort of her arms.

* * *

Ashe watches Larisa run across the atrium, her arms outstretched and her impossibly long, impossibly straight blonde hair flowing behind her. She screams in delight when a tall, handsome man in Archadian robes picks her up and swings her around thrice.

"Larisa!" the man yells. Her daughter laughs even louder when he stops with a hop and holds her out at arms' length. It still astounds her how strong he is. She feels Basch move up behind her, though he makes no sound, and Noah passes her, walking calmly though she knows the boy must be beside himself with delight.

"Uncle Larsa!" Larisa yells. She hugs him again, her little arms tight around his neck. Larsa laughs and hugs her tighter. "It's so good to see you."

"It's good to see you, little one. I trust I find you well?"

"Mm hmmm."

"And your parents? They are behaving themselves?"

"Mommy pushed daddy into the pool yesterday. He was still dressed!"

"Oh did she?" Larsa looks over at Ashe and winks at her. She thinks he has regressed in maturity through the years, making up for all the fun he did not have as a child now in his late twenties. "And did someone put her in time out?"

"No. Daddy pulled her in after, though."

"Oh. Well, that's okay."

Even from a distance she can see the brightness in Larisa's eyes. She loves it when Larsa comes to visit – he brings presents.

"Have you decided to settle down yet, Larsa? Have a few children of your own?"

"Oh, why would I do that, Noah?" He always keeps the ruse alive – not once has he slipped in front of the children and called Basch by his name. "I'm waiting for this one –" he tickles Larisa a bit and watches her squirm, "to grow up so I can take her to Archadia to be _my_ princess."

"Nuh uh!" Larisa says. "I'm going to stay here and be queen of Dalmasca, just like mommy."

"Oh, no!" Larsa cries. Ashe can see him trying to hide his grin. "What ever shall I do?"

Larisa giggles and Larsa kisses her cheek. There are times Ashe wishes they lived closer to Larsa so the children could have him as an older brother rather than an uncle. She wished she could have been there for him herself in the difficult times following the war.

But they take what they can get, and he is theirs for a week.

"Have I ever told you how much I like you name, Larisa?"

"I like yours too."

He sets her down gently on the floor, letting her cling to his hand as he addresses Noah, waiting patiently a few feet away. "Good afternoon, Noah."

"Hello, Uncle Larsa. It is a pleasure to see you."

"So proper," Larsa says. "I don't suppose you are too old to give your favorite uncle a hug, are you?"

Basch knows what Noah thinks of – the uncle that he never knew – and he hopes he does not blame Larsa – hopes Noah does not think that Larsa would ever try to take Gabranth's place. Over the top of Noah's head, Basch meets Larsa's eyes and mouths two words.

_He knows_.

He sees Larsa's smile falter, the memories and the truth washing back over him. He looks back down at Noah, then kneels before the boy and takes him into his arms, hugging him tight. Noah hugs him back, and Basch knows he and Larsa will be spending the evening with Noah, discussing everything.

"It is good to see you, Noah."

"And you, Uncle Larsa."

It is finally Ashe's turn, and she meets Larsa halfway, meeting his warm hug with her own. "It is good to see you well, Larsa."

"And you, Ashe."

She watches as he and Basch shake hands, then hug – a male tradition that she will never understand. For now, everyone is safe. Everyone is happy, and she cannot ask for more.

* * *

"I'm liberating Landis into your care."

The announcement over their morning coffee makes Basch choke. "Excuse me?"

"Archadia took Landis long ago. I have not liberated it before now because we were working on rebuilding it and improving the infrastructure, but Landis is sound now. She can be independent, and so I'm giving her back her sovereignty and leaving her in the care of the last known members of its founding family."

He sips at his coffee as though he had not changed Basch's life in less than thirty seconds – as though nothing had happened.

"Of course, given your marriage to Lady Ashe, it would make Landis a principality of Dalmasca, but since you are not king – what is your title?"

"King consort," Ashe supplies.

"Kind consort, yes. You could reestablish Landis however you wish. Leave it to Noah and Larisa or make it a republic in the care of Dalmasca. I would simply rather see the country free than just another district of Archadia."

"Why not establish it as a republic yourself?"

"The people would like to see a Ronsenburg return," he says simply. "I have been there – spoken with them myself."

Basch looks at Ashe and sees a knowing smile on her lips. She knows how he would love to walk back into a free Landis – to spend time there, watch their children run through its lush, green fields.

And now he can.

"I am honored, Larsa."

"And I am honored you accept the proposal. I will have the paperwork by morning."

"We could go there," Ashe tells him, "next month. We could spend a couple of weeks there."

Basch smiles at her, taking her hand under the table. After all these years, he still loves her more and more with each passing day.

* * *

The children are in bed. Ashe descends the steps of the Governor's Mansion in Ronsenburg, grateful that it looks nothing like the palace. It is simple and quaint like the capitol village – just what she would have expected from Basch's homeland.

She finds him in the den, sitting in a large armchair with a drink in one hand. He stares into the fire, watching it flicker and change before him, more relaxed than she has seen him in ages. He has not noticed her, so she stands still in the doorway for a long while, studying him.

He does not appear to be fifty, no, but she can see the time on his face. The lines around his mouth are more pronounced – though not as deep as the worry lines on his forehead, for Basch always did worry more than he laughed. There is silver in his beard and the scar above his eye has faded even more – she has hardly taken note of it in years.

He is a good father and a good husband. His partnership in rule, though he is not king in practice has been priceless, and he has served as the Archadian ambassador without complaint since he first set foot in Rabanastre – thought the position is rendered virtually obsolete, considering Larsa remains so close.

When she looks at him though, she sees past all of that, and when he smiles she can see nothing but her guard –her faithful protector and lover – as young and energetic as ever.

She steps into the room slowly, as not to startle him, fingering the short emerald skirt of the Landisian milkmaid uniform that she wears.

"I figured that since you are now technically prince of Landis, my old fantasy has been fulfilled, and I know you always thought about what it would be like if we'd both been from Landis, so this only seems fair." He looks up at her and his eyes widen in shock and amusement. "And I know you probably thought of what I'd look like in this –" she spins around, showing him the outfit in its entirety, and then finds him grinning, "but know this, Basch fon Ronsenburg:

I do not milk cows."

* * *

_Noah and Larisa will be fine on their own_, Ashe assures herself over and over. They are adults now, after all, newly crowned as King and Queen of Dalmasca. Their love for each other and their nation will help carry Ivalice into a new golden age, she is sure, but like any mother she is reluctant to leave them.

"They will be fine," Basch says to her, returning from the small airship to her side. As he speaks, Larisa and Noah stride into the aerodrome hangar, still dressed from their formal morning meetings. The sight of her children striding hand in hand, looking so mature and strong, brings tears to Ashe's eyes. "We will only be gone for a month. It is what you wanted. We can stay…"

"No," Ashe says, "no, a month in Landis will benefit us both."

"But we needn't go if you would rather stay."

Ashe wraps her arms around Basch's waist and feels him curl his arm tight around her shoulders, holding her close. After all these years, he still puts her wants above his own, and if she thinks on it for too long, it brings her to tears. That someone who has lost so much in life would consider her whims before his own needs? She can never doubt his love for her.

She never has.

"We will go. We will be back before they can miss us."

"You didn't think we would leave without saying goodbye, did you?" Noah calls. His deep voice echoes through the aerodrome. Basch grins at him in pride – Noah will be a father himself in several months. His new bride is not yet showing signs of being with child, save for the happy grin she wears at all times.

"Not at all," Basch says. They embrace, and Noah laughs. Larisa moves to her mother, her long curls cascading down around her shoulders, and hugs her. Ashe holds her little girl tight, kissing her forehead. She is so beautiful – it stuns Ashe every time she sees Larisa how she has grown into such a goddess.

Larisa's quiet strength compliments Noah's boldness perfectly. Neither Ashe nor Dalmasca could have asked for better rulers.

"Be careful while we are gone," she says, "and send word if you need us to come home. It would only take a day –"

"Mother," Larisa says, laughing. "We will be fine. Go. Enjoy."

"I love you, darling."

"I love you too."

Noah hugs his mother tight and gives her a big kiss on the cheek before releasing her into his father's arms. They say their goodbyes, and Basch ushers Ashe to the airship.

"I am glad we will get to take this trip," she says as they take their seats in the cabin. "I do like Landis. I think their prince is quite gorgeous – even if he has handed the country over to the people."

"I think their prince is quite old," Basch says. She chuckles and leans into him, drawing her legs up beneath her as he holds her. After all this time, it takes only his touch to make her melt.

"Basch?" She whispers his name so the pilot cannot hear.

"Yes, princess?"

"I love you."

He kisses her once, twice, three times before pulling away and smiling down at her. "I love you too."

"I think I left Percival in Rabanastre."

"No," he says, closing his eyes and resting his head atop hers. "I packed him."

Ashe rests her head on his shoulder, and when she closes her eyes on this, their first true day as a couple free of their stately burdens, she daydreams of their life together and of the moments that she carried with her.

Of Vossler bringing him to her room when she was five.

Of Basch tucking her in after an evening story and promising her another adventure in the day to come.

Of him teaching her to defend herself.

Of him placing the ring on her finger for the first time.

Of him holding her in the rain while she cried and vowing to be her knight, her protector, forever – a vow he has never broken.

Of the look on his face when he first saw her again on the first Leviathan.

Of the cautious, careful tactics he used to convince her to trust him again.

Of the blueberry scones eaten in secret over laughter.

Of his hand grasping hers as she dangled over certain death, willing to fall with her if he could not save her.

Of his lips on hers aboard the Strahl, locked in a kiss that would stay with her until he was able to be hers.

Of their wedding and the feeling of each of their children moving inside her and of the look on his face when she would hold his hand to her abdomen to feel it.

Of his happiness at their children's coronation.

As Basch falls into a sound sleep, she maneuvers him carefully until he rests upon her shoulder, and she holds him all the way to Landis, watching him sleep. She never tires of looking at him and knowing he is hers just as she is his princess.

_Always his princess_.

**Author's Note: Oh, this is the end! I am so depressed! I didn't want to stop this at all – I've loved it so much, but I refuse to keep going and find myself writing chapters full of fluff and no content. They are happy. They have lived happily ever after and I have proven that.**

**There will be a brief epilogue (an optional read) coming either tomorrow or the next day. **

**I have enjoyed this, my friends, more than I can tell you. I will be so bored without this to work on (so leave me messages!). I hope you are not disappointed by this ending, or by anything in this story. There is a part of me that thinks I should have stopped at chapter 19 – these last chapters are ones I never intended to write, but I love this couple so much that I wanted to be certain they lived happily ever after – and the only way to do that would be to write it myself. **

**There is a lot that I would change, and maybe I will, but I have completed my challenge to myself, which I am very, very proud of.**

**As it is, I intend to spend the next few days playing FFXIII, which I acquired only hours ago – I may return sooner than you think.**


	22. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Ashe feels the grass between her toes, the breeze at her face and the presence of those she loves surrounding her. They do this once a year on the same day – Basch's birthday – and though she does this more often than they, there is a weight about the event – the heaviness of knowing this will be the last time she stands with her family over her husband's grave and remembers him with them.

She knows she will not live another year. Her old, weary bones have made it ten years without him – ten long, lonely years – and she feels this is punishment enough for any sins she has committed.

A warm, desert breeze blows in from the Estersand, and Ashe closes her eyes, imagining that Basch is there, beside her, enjoying the sunshine and warm weather.

Larsa, who joins them when he can, pulls his graying hair back into a ponytail, and kneels before the grave beside Basch's –the one that reads Noah Gabranth. They have switched the headstones – Ashe insisted upon it.

Only in death can Basch reclaim his name.

She'd thought she would be prepared for life without him – she is older and wiser now – she'd know this was coming. They'd always known he would leave first, and sometimes she thinks he knew even when she was a child that he would leave her alone and she would have to fend for herself.

But Ashe had never imagined that she would feel so alone without him, even when surrounded by pieces of him – their children and grandchildren.

No, for Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca, there was no substitute for her knight.

"Mother? We should go back. You need your rest."

Ashe feels Larisa's hand at her shoulder. She nods, earning herself a hug of approval from her daughter, who needs rest herself. Her husband – Al-Cid's eldest – carries their firstborn, only a week old.

As the rest leave, bidding farewell to Basch, Ashe lingers at his grave. It should have become easier through the years to see it – to see her beloved's name etched into stone, as if he was no more than an assembly of letters – but it never has, and the weight of knowing the space beside him will soon be filled with everything that is left of hers crushes her in her brittle age.

Perhaps she has lingered too long, for she feels a small hand slip into hers, its tiny warm fingers reaching around her palm and pulling ever so slightly.

She looks down into familiar eyes – the only pair of eyes that bring her comfort in these days. They are the Gabranth eyes that broke Basch's heart the first time he saw them – the eyes of a then-infant that made the strong knight cry in his old age.

"Grandma? Are you coming?"

She smiles down at him – the ten year old boy Basch barely knew – Noah's eldest son. His light blonde hair shimmers in the sunlight as he bounces on the balls of his feet with boundless energy. He has grown into Basch's large hands and has come to smile like his grandfather more and more with each passing year.

Some days Ashe cannot look at him, but today it comforts her, knowing a large part of her and her knight will live on.

"I am coming."

"Will you come see my drawings? I made one for you."

"Lead the way, Basch," she says. She says the boy's name rarely, and she hopes that does not hurt him. He runs on ahead of her, grinning and dodging the graves, ever respectful, but ever energetic.

Ashe follows after him, musing that she has done this all her life – follow a Basch fon Ronsenburg of Dalmasca.

* * *

Basch watches Ashe – an invisible spirit forever at her side. She is leaning against her sink, washing her hands and staring into her reflection, searching, he imagines, for some remnant of the vibrance and flawless beauty she once held.

"You are still beautiful," he tells her, though she cannot hear his words. He cannot either. In this state he has no voice, and there is no one to hear. No one to care.

He endures it for her – for the moments, so few and far between, when she is closer to death and the energy around her ripples and he can reach out to her. She can never see him, but he knows she can feel him – knows when she freezes and takes deep breaths – knows when she whispers his name under his breath.

He endures this maddening silence and nonbeing for those moments that he knows bring her comfort.

It is enough.

He reaches out to touch her, to satisfy his own need for nearness, as she organizes the bottles on her counter. His hands are smooth and youthful to his eyes. He has no reflection, but he imagines he is as he was when he entered Dalmasca's knightly order.

Perhaps that is why he is as he is – it is Ashe's existence he is tied to. Perhaps he exists as she would remember him, as he knows she has always seen him.

She walks through him and it warms him, making him feel as if he is alive for only a second. It is torture, returning to his cold, lifeless state before he can enjoy the moment of heat and comfort she brings him, but he knows he is not here for himself.

He is here for her.

Ashe walks into her room, her strides no longer lengthy and powerful, but careful and calculated. It pains him to see her weakened – only in her latter years has she accepted her own limits – when he knows her spirit still possesses the same vigor and ferocity, the same gentle strength and tender beauty he had always loved.

He follows at her side, his hands clasped behind his back to prevent himself from reaching out to help her. He watches as she stops and looks about the room for something. He follows her gaze, trying to find what it is she seeks, for the moment lost in need to help her – forgetting that he cannot. It is not until she whispers the name that he feels his cold face crack in a smile.

"Percival?"

He spots the bear on a distant shelf, up far too high for her to reach and too far away for her failing vision to see, and without considering his state, he walks to it and reaches for it.

His ghostly hand passes through the bear's body and he frowns. Basch looks back to her, standing frozen and helpless as she looks around with tears in her eyes. Surely some maid had moved the bear. Ashe would not have taken it from her bed, for it is what she clung to in his absence.

There are moments like these all too frequently.

In the stillness of the night Ashe begins to cry alone. It start slow with a slow trickle of tears sliding down her lined face, then becomes sobbing that Basch fears will break her frail body. He cries out in anger at his helplessness. He is worthless to her – beside her but unable to protect her from the pain of a lost friend.

He swipes at the bear over and over again, and his hand passes through it as Ashe's crying becomes louder, more pained, and she leans into her desk for support, knocking over an inkwell and a stack of books. They fall to the floor.

He grabs at the bear, yelling for it to come to him, as angry at him as he is the silence and darkness that surround him. A voice – a selfish one – rings in from the back of his mind, saying he should have moved on, that she would have joined him.

"I said I would stay with her," he says, reaching for the bear still, "and stay with her I shall."

Ashe gasps for air and Basch knocks Percival to the ground, where he falls, as lifeless as the spirit before him.

The energy has rippled before, but never like this. Never that he could touch something – effect the world around him. His eyes widen and he looks back to his princess.

Ashe clutches her chest, but her face is calm as she looks to the place where she had just seen motion. Her eyes scan the area, and then she spots it – Percival on the floor where he had not been only moments ago.

From somewhere deep inside, she pulls the energy to walk forward, to let go of the desk. She stumbles to the chair, and Basch keeps himself still, not wanting to startle her if he can indeed touch her. He watches her – so beautiful still, he thinks – as she comes to meet him, her silver hair falling from its clip into her face. She crouches and grasps Percival, but remains hung there until Basch caves and helps her stand. She gasps again at his touch and she knows she can feel him somehow. He feels a pounding in his chest, but surely it is not his heart – he has not felt a heartbeat in ten years.

Ten years that have been as long for him as they have for her.

She looks down at the bear, the color slowly draining from her face. He is old and worn – there are patches on his arms, and a stain still on his foot from the knight she lost him.

"Oh, Percival."

Her knees give, and Basch catches her and she rights herself, then holds herself still. She has truly felt him – she wears the look she always does when this happens – one of childlike wonder. It is a look he came to love long ago.

"Basch." It is not a question.

"Move to the bed," he whispers to her, and from somewhere she takes the suggestion. Together he ambles with her. He marvels at how he does not move through her.

She must be closer now than she has ever been before.

Together, they fall into her bed. She clutches Percival to her chest, and Basch lays himself at her side, looking into her face as she closes her eyes. The air is failing her, not making it into her lungs to keeping her heart beating. He is glad, in some ways – glad that she is coming to him, but he knows she does not want to leave their children or grandchildren, for she loves them so.

"They will be fine." He whispers the words, hoping she can hear them. Did he not take an oath years ago to comfort her when she was in need? "You have raised them well."

"Basch." Her voice is faint now, and he touches her face. He cannot cry – the emotion builds inside of him, and he fears he will explode until he sees a lock of her hair move at his touch. She is closer now, so close to him that he can feel her more and more.

"You're coming to meet me," he says. His voice breaks with emotion – happiness or pain, he does not know. "I'm waiting right here on the other side, princess. I'm right here. Don't you know I would never leave you?"

He sees a single tear slip from the corner of her eye, and watches as it rolls over the bridge of her nose onto Percival's small brown ear. He runs his hand over her side and feels her shiver – from his touch, or from death's hand? It does not matter. She will be with him soon, so soon.

He echoes himself as she lets her last sweet breath go, barely able to speak. She is taking him with her. "Don't you know I would never leave you?"

* * *

Ashe breathes out the stale air of her room in the palace, then breathes in the fragrant, earthy air of a field covered in dew. Her eyes snap open, and she is met with a blue, cloudless sky above, illuminated by a bright, midmorning sun sitting just atop the rolling hills at a distance. She sits up, her motions fluid, and finds herself surrounded by wildflowers, their colors brilliant as they sway in a gentle breeze. She takes one in her hand – a shade of violet so bright that she does not know the name – and notices the smooth flesh stretched over her long fingers.

She examines them, and then feels over her face. She is young again, and she is on her feet within seconds, admiring her long, unscarred legs, strong and smooth. She takes in a deep breath – deeper than she has been able to take in for years – and laughs, spinning around in a circle and feeling her white dress flow out around her. She is dressed as a princess again, for that is what she is. She stretches her arms out before her, admiring them not for their beauty, but for the memories they once held – children, grandchildren, friends and a man so wonderful that she aches when she examines her fingers.

The ring rests on her left hand, right where it belongs. She admires it as it gleams in the sunlight, then notices something move somewhere above her fingertips. She lowers her hands and looks into the distance at the hills.

A figure stands perched atop one, and when she listens she can hear its laugher – so familiar, so beautiful! It is a sound she has tried so hard to remember – one she clung to on cold nights – and one that is so much more beautiful coming from him than from her memory.

She walks towards him, the moisture from the ground covering and cooling her feet. There is no need to run – she can feel time stretching out forever around her, all wrapped up in endless choices for them. He walks down from the hill towards her and she notices the uniform he wears. It brings tears to her eyes.

He strides towards her as a Dalmascan knight, his sword at his side, the cape he wore long ago billowing behind him. He appears as she remembers him, and she grins as she has not grinned in ages

They meet in the middle in the basin of the hills, the sunlight washing over them, and she can think of nothing to say – no words that seem appropriate. She can only stare at him, look into his gorgeous eyes and see their lives in them and all the love they shared.

Words fail her until she realizes she is meeting him again, all over again, to start another existence – one without hardships, pain or distances. She smiles at him softly, tilting her head to one side as she drinks in the handsome sight of him again, as if it were the first time.

"My name is Ashe," she says, hearing her voice as it was upon their meeting. "What is yours?"

He draws his sword from his side – the flash of metal blinding her for a moment, and then she sees him grin. Tears appear on his perfect face as he reaches out to touch hers, wiping away the droplets that have betrayed the intensity of what she feels. She knows everything is okay when he touches her – that their children are fine, and that she is right where she belongs. She is with him, and he kneels before her as he once did many years ago.

"My name is Basch, my lady, and I am ever at your service."


End file.
